
A 




















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i 












MARIE SMELLING WITH HER MIND. 





/ 


\ 


The White Flame 


BY 


MARY A. CORNELIUS 


Fed by pure ministers of love — 

Let not the flame die out. 

— Carpenter 




CHICAGO 

STOCKIIAM PUBLISHING CO. 


76081 


Library ot Congress 

Two Copies Received 

NOV 15 1900 

Copyright entry 

Jho^/. / V, /?<>' 

SECOND COPY 

Dc.'ivtfod to 

ORotK Division 

DEC 1 1900 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1900, 
By STOCKHAM PUBLISHING CO. 

In the office of Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 












O " 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER I. 

Some one was sitting in my chair! The 
chair was a recent purchase from a dealer on 
whose sign was a pictured hand preceded by 
the word “Second” and followed by “Store.” 

My grandfather was an antiquarian, and I 
am a victim of the inexorable law of heredity. 
I adore an object touched by the rust of ages. 
I believed, when the chair came into my pos- 
session,! had found such — although the Israelite 
who beguiled me into emptying my purse for 
it could not positively affirm that it was landed 
from the Mayflower. He declared he could pro- 
duce evidence proving it was in existence in 
the “old country” generations before the land- 
ing of the Pilgrim Fathers. 

Deep hidden secret was the reason he could 
afford to sell it so “scheap,” and if not satis- 
5 


6 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


fied, I might return it and he would refund 
half the “prize" I had paid. 

The antique curiosity in question had stood 
in the corner of my sleeping apartment since 
morning, and whenever during the dav I 
chanced to enter the place where this late 
addition to my furniture lent its charm, I 
feasted my eyes upon it with unmingled pleas- 
ure. Massive in structure was it, and nearly 
square the seat, from which the back rose high 
in perpendicular exactitude. On its topmost 
brace of hard dark wood was beautifully carved 
the coat-of-arms, presumably, of its original 
owner, a lion rampant its distinguishing fea- 
ture. Great arms, invitingly extended in 
straight lines, also bore marks of the genius of 
the carver, as did the well-braced legs ; but like 
the war-scarred veteran who has escaped with 
his limbs, the old relic bore abundant evidence 
of its battle with Time. 

With the eagerness of a lover looking for- 
ward to an interview with his mistress, I waited 
for evening, when I might enjoy a season in the 
embracing arms of my treasure ; but the unex- 
pected presence of friends kept me until a late 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


7 


hour. It was long past my usual time for 
retiring when I entered my room, knelt and 
offered my nightly devotions without once 
glancing at my precious possession. When at 
length I turned my eyes in that direction, 
some one was sitting in my chair! 

A faint cry of surprise escaped me. 

“Are you afraid?” asked the figure, in a 
kindly, reassuring voice, which accorded well 
with his appearance of dignified old age. 

“No,” I replied, quickly recovering myself. 
“But who are you?” 

“I am the First Owner of this chair,” replied 
the figure, changing his position to one of easy 
indolence, “and I always occupy it shortly 
before the midnight hour!” 

Although his tone was conciliatory, and it 
occurred to me that he might be acting under 
compulsion, yet I could not but regard the 
speaker with a touch of indignation that in a 
measure counteracted the awe which his vener- 
able presence inspired; for he had, to my mind, 
unceremoniously taken possession of my prop- 
erty, and purposed appropriating it to his use 
on future occasions. 


8 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


Belonging evidently to a generation of the 
past, his dress indicated the fashion of a cen- 
tury agone— a sleeved tunic of scarlet, gold 
laced, and confined at the waist by a girdle. 
An ample velvet mantle worn over this, par- 
tially concealed the outlines of his form, but, 
falling open in front, displayed the cross gar- 
tering of his hose, and low shoes encasing his 
feet. Abundant hair of snowy whiteness swept 
his broad shoulders, and ripples of long silken 
beard lay upon his breast like a drift of snow. 
He glittered with jewels. They hung from his 
well-formed ears, clasped his girdle, fastened 
his mantle, sparkled upon his shapely white 
fingers, and were on the buckles of his shoes. 
Above all this bewildering brilliancy, his deep 
set eyes shone like two violet sapphires, and in 
their translucent depths was an expression of 
settled regretfulness which appealed to my 
sympathies and modified my resentment, mak- 
ing it possible for me to say, “Had I known 
what you have told me, I should not have 
bought the chair.” 

“No, but Nathan knew it,” he said sorrow- 
fully. “Nathan, who sold it to you, is not hon- 


THE WHITE FLAME 


9 


est as he should be. He has sold this chair to 
hundreds, and all have returned it, receiving 
from him half the price paid.” 

‘‘The cheat!” I ejaculated hotly. ‘‘I will 
not put him in the way of adding to his ill- 
gotten gains. He shall never own that chair 
again. ’ ’ 

My strange visitor sighed. ‘‘Nathan is 
surely a fit subject for your prayers,” said he. 

“Prayers!” I repeated, “I have just Offered 
prayers for my parents and sister, and all 
whom I love, but who would think of asking a 
blessing on such a cheat?” 

“I know of One,” was the answer, “who 
prayed for wrong-doers ‘Father, forgive 
them/ ” 

During the brief silence that fell between us, 
my visitor raised his eyes to the clock on the 
mantel. 

“Ten minutes of twelve,” said he, “and 
I am to leave at midnight, for I am appointed 
to convey an infant soul to a country far 
away.” 

“O, tell me of that far country!” I cried. 

“Not now. While the chair remains I must 


10 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


come every night, and we may converse, but 
not in the presence of others. Only the owner 
of the chair can perceive my presence. To all 
others I am invisible.” 

The clock struck twelve. A white flame 
flashed before the chair and left it vacant. 


THE WHITE FLftME. 


11 


CHAPTER II. 

In common with the human race, the seed 
of superstition is within me, and although 
unconscious of having experienced fear or 
dread of him who claimed to be the First 
Owner of my chair, during our interview, the 
instant he disappeared cold shivers shook my 
frame. Though physical demonstration of 
the strain upon my nerves was soon overcome, 
my mind was in a whirl of excitement which 
banished sleep. Tumultuous speculations 
rioted in my mind concerning the strange per- 
sonage who had forced himself into my pres- 
ence, or been forced to come — I knew not 
which — with all the possibilities involved in 
future visits. 

Not for an instant did I harbor the idea of 
attempting to prevent his coming by removing 
the chair, but I resolved that our nocturnal 
interviews should remain a secret between 
ourselves, for a time at least. I confess a feel- 


12 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


ing of relief when I considered that my little 
sister, Marie, who was my usual bed-fellow, 
was to return home the following morning 
from a few days’ visit in the country, and would 
be present in my room when my expected 
guest should appear, even though she would 
probably be fast asleep. My tenderest love 
was lavished upon her and all sisterly duties, 
performed for her a pleasure. I delighted 
especially sitting by her bedside, listening to 
her nightly song — for she always sang herself 
to sleep — and to her prayer which I had taught 
her. This brought to my remembrance that 
the wraith had recommended Nathan, the 
cheat, as a subject for prayer. Prayer 4 ‘ for 
them which despitefully use you and persecute 
you ” had been taught me since childhood, but 
this was my first real test by this sacred text. 
Though at first disposed to rebel, I could only 
acknowledge its justice. Before having 
learned of Nathan’s depravity, I had always 
performed my religious duties. But this was 
a severe test. 

Sleep snatched in the early morning, how- 
ever, calmed my perturbed spirit, and when the 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


13 


breakfast bell awoke me, I was unconscious of 
the resentment which still lurked in my unfor- 
giving heart. In truth, as I looked at the 
innocent cause of my enforced vigils, I won- 
dered if my visit from the First Owner was not 
all a dream, and poor Nathan’s crime wholly 
imaginary. Before the question was settled to 
my entire satisfaction, the door was flung open 
and my little sister bounded joyfully into the 
room, sprang upon the bed and threw her arms 
around my neck. 

“Oh, Frank!’’ she exclaimed, “I could just 
hug you to death! I’m so glad to see you. I 
haven’t had anybody to kiss me to sleep, or 
hear me say my prayers and sing my songs, as 
you do, and I’ve been awfully lonesome nights. 
But the days — oh, the days, the glorious days! 
Romping in the daisy field! Why, Frank, 
there’s a whole field on the farm, as big as this 
city, full of daisies. I wish you could see it. 
Oh, my ! It looks as if the stars had all tumbled 
down there. And you ought to see the trees 
in the orchard, Frank, and — why, Frank, 
where did that big chair come from?” 

Marie, for the first time, noticed my treasure, 


14 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


and as I answered laconically, “I bought it,” 
she hopped from her perch on the bed to exam- 
ine the chair. The coat-of-arms attracting her 
attention, she climbed into the seat saying: 
“I must see the lion on the back,” and having 
satisfied her curiosity, nestled quietly down 
between the arms. 

After a while, observing her calmness I 
asked: “Did your early drive tire you, Marie?” 

“O, no!” she replied, “I am not a bit tired, 
but I feel lazy, and I’ve felt so ever since I sat 
here. I don’t want to get up and I don’t want 
to do anything! I just know who sat in it last 
though!” 

“Who?” 

“Why, Aunt Susan, of course! She always 
makes the chair she sits in feel this way to me. 
It catches her feelings and gives them to me. 
I know, Frank, things that people sit on and 
handle do this, for I’ve tried a lot of chairs 
and sofas and they all feel differently.” 

“Some are hard and some are soft?” I sug- 
gested. 

“No, no; I don’t mean that! I mean every- 
body leaves something where they go, that we 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


15 


cannot see but we can feel . I believe Aunt 
Susan was in this chair last. ” 

“No, Marie, Aunt Susan has not been in this 
room since I bought the chair.” 

The aunt alluded to, was my mother’s foster 
sister and her original small property had 
accumulated in the hands of my grandfather to 
a handsome sum. She had never married, and, 
being without kindred, often intimated she 
would leave her property to my mother with 
whom she now made her home. Her love for 
ease was her most prominent characteristic. 

It occurred to me while Marie was so posi- 
tively asserting her opinion as to the last occu- 
pant of the chair, that the pose of the child and 
of its first owner was similar to the restful atti- 
tude in which I had often seen Aunt Susan. 
Moreover, a mental comparison of the features 
of all strongly suggested a family resemblance. 

A second summons to the morning meal 
interrupted my train of thought and the busy 
day which followed nearly banished it from my 
mind. But when Marie’s dreaded bed-time 
came and the spoiled little thing was being 
coaxed into compliance, she again called up the 


16 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


subject by saying, with a saucy toss of her curly 
head; “I’ll go to bed after you let me sit in 
your new chair. ’ ’ 

My consent gained, with the proviso that she 
would confine herself to a five-minute indulg- 
ence, she gayly tripped after me, up the wind- 
ing stairway to our room and planted herself 
in the coveted seat. 

“Now, Frank,’’ said she, “I’ll count sixty, 
five times, and then I’ll undress.’’ 

It was fully ten minutes before the little 
witch had drawled out “sixty” for the last time 
and the prolonged sigh which followed trenched 
largely on another sixty seconds, which she was 
bound to stretch to the utmost limit before 
commencing her customary dilly-dally process 
of disrobing. This she invariably began, as 
was her habit when about to make a dreaded 
effort, with the sage remark “If I must I 
must,’’ and having so delivered herself she 
stooped to unlace her shoes. 

One slender foot was at length bared and 
rested on the rug in front of the chair, and as 
she drew off her other stocking she remarked, 
“I think I’ll hang my things on the arm of the 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


17 


chair and lay my dress and skirts on the seat 
and let them soak all night in the feeling Aunt 
Susan left there.” 

“I reckon,” she continued, carrying out her 
plan, “if any cunning little elves did hop from 
under the daisies and hide in my ruffles, they 
could snuggle right down here and not have to 
go to bed as I do!” 

Saying this she looked mournfully in the 
direction of our couch and, after a moment’s 
hesitation, started toward it remarking: “If I 
must I must!” 

Her prayers being said, her head soon rested 
upon her pillow, which she begged me to share 
with her. 

“Please, Frank,” she said, “lie down here 
until I sing myself to sleep. I always see 
strange faces in the dark but when you are 
here I’m not afraid.” 

Her pleadings won me and, my previous 
night’s rest having been broken, sleep quickly 


overcame me. 


18 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER III. 

I awoke about midnight. The first object 
that met my view was my visitor of the pre- 
vious night snugly ensconced in the chair where 
Marie’s stockings were dangling from the 
arms, although her other articles of dress were 
concealed by his figure. He was arrayed in 
the same garments and jewels which he wore 
the evening before. His face turned toward 
the clock and his lips moved as if counting the 
seconds. As I lay watching him, for a moment 
hesitating what course to pursue, he looked 
suddenly around and shot a piercing glance 
into my staring eyes. “Too late!” said he, 
“Sleep on; take your rest. I shall be in the 
chair to-morrow night.” 

As before, and as afterward, he disappeared 
in a white flame. It was twelve o’clock. I 
went to the chair in which remained Marie’s 
garments, heaped in the same orderly pile she 
had left then. Not a fluted flounce had been 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


19 


crushed, nor was there any indication that the 
lightly deposited articles had been subject to 
the slightest pressure. Indeed, the little girl 
herself, who was the perfection of order, 
indulged in many self-congratulations the next 
morning on her fortunate selection of what she 
called the ‘ ‘ chair wardrobe. ” “ For, ’ * said she, 

“a chair-wardrobe is the most convenientest in 
the world. Nobody wants to sit in it, and there 
is no door to open, and my dress isn’t crowded 
and mussed.” 

“There’s another thing, Frank,” she contin- 
ued, mysteriously rolling up her blue eyes at 
me as she tugged at an unruly button, “That 
chair is full of something I can feel and I want 
it to get into my clothes, ’cause I like it” 

“O, you are imaginative,” I said. 

“What’s that?” she asked quickly. 

“Why, you said last night you saw faces in 
the dark when you were alone. You don’t 
really see faces but you think you do. That is 
being imaginative. ’ ’ 

“How do you know , Frank, I don’t see faces 
in the dark?” 

“When you are older and can understand 


20 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


better I will explain to you how I know,” wa.s 
my reply. 

“Then will you tell me how you know the 
chair doesn’t feel to me as I think it does, 
Frank?” 

“I’ll try, Marie.” 

She was silent for a moment before pro- 
pounding the question : “Say, Frank, did you 
ever think you saw something you didn’t see, 
or felt something you didn’t feel?” 

My ambiguous answer, “I am not imagin- 
ative, Marie,” did not satisfy the little investi- 
gator, and she responded in a disappointed 
tone: “I wish you had said ‘yes’ or ‘no’ ; I 

like a sure word. ’ ’ 

“But suppose I am not quite sure?” I said 
soothingly. 

‘ ‘ Oh, my ! Haven’t you sat in your new chair 
yet? Try it, Frank, try it this minute! I’ll 
just push you into it.” 

Suiting the action to the word, she made the 
attempt, in which I laughingly acquiesced. 

“Now, Frank, tell me, honest, don’t you get 
a still, creeping feeling like you never had 
before?” 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


21 


“I am very comfortable,” I said, ignoring 
her question, for I was unwilling to admit, 
even to myself, the strange languor I experi- 
enced on coming in contact with the chair. 

“Oh, Frank, you won’t own it, but you are 
just the least little bit imaginative too; now 
aren’t you, honest, aren’t you?” 

Standing in front of me, her bare arms 
akimbo, her bright countenance was aglow 
with expectation, awaiting my answer. 

Always showing a peculiar sensitiveness to 
the subtle influences which are the concomi- * 
tants of human character on one of her im- 
pressional nature, I could not deceive her, had 
I wished. She further impressed this fact 
upon me, when, observing my uneasy silence, 
she said: “You don’t like to say ‘yes,’ do you, 
Frank, ’cause you think, it’s foolish to be 
’maginative?” 

I did not deny that she had in part read my 
secret thought, and answered: “You haven’t 
guessed quite right, Marie, but I’ll give you all 
day to guess again, and we’ll talk it over when 
you go to bed. ” 

It is doubtful if the subject crossed Marie’s 


22 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


mind again during the day, for a children’s 
party which she attended absorbed her atten- 
tion, and she was so thoroughly fatigued when 
she retired at night that sleep overcame her in 
the midst of her drowsy song. 

Weary myself, for I was a teacher of music 
and some of my pupils had been more trying 
than usual, 1 almost envied the innocent 
sleeper, by whose bedside I sat, her care-free 
repose, she being the only member of our fam- 
ily so favored. 

My father, an attorney, had been a confirmed 
invalid for years, and during that time mamma 
had comfortably maintained him and her two 
daughters by a few select boarders, having 
ample accommodations. Therefore it was a 
relief to her when my musical education was so 
far advanced as to enable me to become self- 
supporting. Proud of my financial independ- 
ence, I seldom consulted my prudent mother 
concerning my expenditure. To this lack of 
filial duty was due the imposition practiced 
upon me by Nathan, of whose unforgiven 
trickery I was reminded as I looked toward 
my inviting chair. I would gladly have rested 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


23 


there but for the dread of usurping the claims 
of another now probably on his way to redeem 
his promise of the night before. I sat still and 
waited the coming of the First Owner of the 
chair. 


24 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER IV. 

Long time were my eyes fastened on the 
vacant chair. Suddenly it was occupied by the 
expected visitor. He simply appeared in it. 
I did not see him enter the room nor did I see 
him take his seat. I only knew he was there ; 
and without ceremony he immediately ad- 
dressed me: “Have you offered prayers for 
Nathan?” 

Now, I regarded myself as very religious, 
and his question annoyed me, as it seemed to 
imply a doubt of my having performed the 
duty he had suggested, and to which I was little 
inclined. I was impatient to hear of his world, 
so I made no excuses but simply answered, 
“No.” 

He sighed, and said, “Neglect of duty is the 
bane of spiritual life !” Sighing again, he con- 
tinued, “Had I done my duty, I would not 
now be compelled to occupy this chair.” 

His remarkable statement diverted me from 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


25 


asking information, exciting my curiosity to 
such a degree that I hastily replied: “Have 
you any objection to telling me to what duty 
you allude?” 

“No,” he replied, “but the story is a long 
one and would occupy all the time I shall be at 
liberty to give you for a long while.” 

“1 should like to hear it,” I persisted. 

“Shall I begin now?” said he, settling back 
in the chair. 

“I would like to know first,” I said, remem- 
bering that I might learn that for which I 
thirsted, “about the far country to which you 
conveyed the infant soul.” 

“My story,” said he, “leads to the very con- 
fines of that country, and I will tell you all 
that I am permitted to; there will be ample 
time, if you have determined to keep the 
chair.” 

“But,” said I, intent on fathoming at least 
one mystery, “you will be so long telling your 
story, that I would like to ask one question 
before you begin.” 

“Speak on,” said he. 


26 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


“Why did a white flame blaze up so I could 
not see you leave?” 

“That,” said he, “represents theWhite Flame 
of Mercy. It flashes up whenever I am leav- 
ing the chair. Although invisible to all except 
the eyes of the one who owns the chair and can 
see me, it always burns. The White Flame of 
Mercy always burns!” 

“Pardon my impatience,” I said, yet I felt 
sure my tone betrayed satisfaction at having 
learned something concerning the White 
Flame. 

“You are excusable,” was the kind reply. 
“It is hard for youth to know patience.” 

“Frank!” 

My little sister was sitting up in bed rubbing 
her eyes. “Frank,” she repeated, “who are 
you talking to?” 

I was bewildered and silent. 

4 4 The child can not see me or hear my voice, ’ ’ 
said the person in the chair. 

Reassured, I said, “Lie down and go to 
sleep, Marie; you have been dreaming.” 

4 4 But I heard you speak, Frank. Is Aunt 
Susan here? I feel as if she were. ” 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


27 


“No, Aunt Susan is not here. Lie down and 
go to sleep,” I said coaxingly. 

“You spoke to somebody,” persisted the 
child; “who was it?” 

My truthful answer, “I don’t know,” was 
not favorably received. Her wide open eyes 
wandered around the room, but, unable to 
detect the presence she declared she felt , she 
finally crept out of bed and pushed aside the 
portieres of the alcove. Baffled in her search, 
she walked slowly to the haunted chair and 
leaned against it with her hand upon the arm. 
Her white night dress brushed the occupant’s 
velvet cloak, and her hand touched the sleeve 
of his tunic. 

“Frank,” she said, “I afo/hear you speak.” 

I was silent. 

“Now what did you say?” 

“I think I said ‘Pardon my impatience.’ ” 

“Why, Frank, you ought to have told me 
you were saying your prayers, and I would not 
have interrupted you.” 

“It’s all right, Marie,” I said encouragingly. 
“You had better go to bed now. ” 

“O, Frank, don’t ask me to go to bed until 


28 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


you go with me. I’m all trembling and I feel 
as if there was somebody here. I can’t sleep 
a wink without you. I know I can’t.” 

Before I could reply, my visitor, unseen and 
unheard by Marie, said in a fatherly tone, 
‘‘Indulge your sister. The weak should be 
helped.” 

As he was speaking Marie came and patted 
my cheek coaxingly and said, ‘‘Let me stay up 
with you, and I’ll undo your hair so you will 
sleep the best you ever slept.” 

It was nearly midnight and while Marie 
followed her own sweet will in removing comb 
and pins from my hair, the White Flame 
flashed up, and from out of the flame came the 
words : * ‘ Pray for N athan ! ’ * 

Marie owned that she was imaginative, ‘‘for, ” 
said she, ‘‘it did seem for awhile as if Aunt 
Susan were really here and now I don’t feel 
her at all — you talk to the chair don’t you, 
Frank?” she asked searchingly, but I ignored 
her question and as the clock struck one she 
fell asleep beside me. 

The strange relation which the chair, and 
Aunt Susan bore each other, in Marie’s sensi- 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


29 


tive mind, was a mystery that I did not at that 
time attempt to solve ; I was disturbed that I 
had been exhorted to especially pray for 
Nathan, and for his welfare could not pray sin- 
cerely. I fell asleep in the vain endeavor to 
reconcile duty and inclination. 


30 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER V. 

Sounding in my ear a voice awakened me at 
sunrise. It said: “Pray for Nathan!” 

I opened my eyes and glanced around the 
room in mute astonishment not unmixed with 
trepidation. A flood of golden light streaming 
in at the window, bathed everything in its 
glory, nearly blinded me, but under the in- 
fluence of its heavenly sheen I experienced a 
sense of reassurance. 

“A dream,” was my mental disposal of the 
matter. But next instant it occurred to me 
that the voice which had disturbed my morn- 
ing slumbers was the same with which I had 
become familiar in my intercourse with my 
nightly visitor. Involuntarily I glanced 
toward the chair, half expecting to see it occu- 
pied. 

Although I saw no wraith and heard no aud- 
ible voice, a thousand invisible tongues seemed 
to whisper to me, with one accord: “Pray for 
Nathan!” 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


31 


Distracted with conflicting emotions, I 
sprang from my couch saying to myself : “No, 
no; I will never pray for Nathan! He is 
unworthy of my prayers!” 

Immediately the whispers ceased, but I was 
not at rest. Although my willful decision 
seemed to have silenced them, I could not so 
easily shake off the impression of unwisdom. 
I stubbornly adhered to it, until, having con- 
sidered it in all its bearings during the hour in 
which I was engaged in making my toilet, I 
began to waver. 

I really wanted to forgive Nathan but found 
myself lacking in courage as I knelt in my 
usual place at the bedside of Marie, who lay 
apparently sound asleep. Suddenly the child 
cried out: “What’s the row now?” 

“Why, Marie,” I exclaimed, “I am aston- 
ished to hear such an expression from you.” 

“Oh, that’s nothing!” she replied, uncon- 
cernedly. “I heard it every day at the farm. 
If the chickens got into the garden, or the 
milk was spilled, and Mr. Peters didn’t know 
what Mrs. Peters was worrying about, he 
would say ‘What’s the row now?’ I’ve been 


32 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


watching you out of the corner of my eye ever 
so long, and I know you are so worried you 
don’t even want to say your prayers, now, do 
you?” 

“Yes, Marie, I do want to say my prayers!” 

“Then what are you standing there for with 
that naughty frown upon your face instead of 
doing what you want to do? When I feel, as 
you act, Frank, I always say, ‘Dear Lord, 
please forgive me,’ and I feel better right 
away.” 

“But how do you know the Lord will forgive 
you for feeling naughty if you don’t forgive 
those who have been naughty to you?” 

“I do forgive ’em. I forgived Jimmy Dunn 
when he stole my pencil and Horatio Peters 
when he pulled my hair and the old toy man 
that cheated me when I bought my doll and 


“Stop, stop, Marie!” I exclaimed, stung by 
the innocent exhibition she was making of her 
generous nature; “you make me ashamed of 
myself. ” Turning my back upon her T quickly 
left the room. 

“Come back, Frank, and say your prayers,” 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


33 


she cried. But I hurried out of the sound of 
her voice. Not long afterward she appeared 
in the library where I was practicing on the 
piano. Determined not to be ignored she lin- 
gered near my side and at an opportune mo- 
ment threw her arms around my neck and 
whispered in my ear: “Frank, I’ve found a 
lovely place for us to say our prayers. It is 
right in front of your new chair. The seat is 
just high enough to lean on, and the bed, you 
know, is rather high. Then, too, the chair is 
so resty. You can’t touch it without feeling 
still and good. Will you try it, Frank?’’ 

The negative motion of my head was a rebuff 
so discouraging that Marie stole silently away. 
I next heard her voice out on the veranda ad- 
dressing the young pastor of our church, whose 
home was with us. Him she innocently made 
her confidant in all matters pertaining to the 
religion of the family. 

“I guess,’’ she said, in a confidential tone, 
“Frank don’t intend to say her prayers any 
more, for she didn’t say ’em this morning and 
I think she ought to be spoked to about 
it." 


34 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


“Her little sister might speak to her,” sug- 
gested the wise shepherd of our flock. 

“She don’t want me to,” was the reply. 
“She shook her head at me and wouldn’t listen, 
and she didn’t seem a bit afraid that the bad 
one would get her. She is very dary , Mr. 
Booth, she is very, very dary. I never saw her 
afraid of anything; but if she don’t say her 
prayers to-night I shall be afraid to sleep with 
her. Something awful might happen. Don’t 
you think so, Mr. Booth?’’ 

His answer though inaudible to me evidently 
quieted Marie’s apprehensions, for she came 
directly back without alluding to the subject 
and calmly intimated that she was ready for 
her morning lesson. 

“I heard you talking about me to Mr. 
Booth,’’ said I, ignoring her errand and look- 
ing at her searchingly. 

She burst into tears. “Frank,’’ said she, 
“it’s dreadful for you to stop saying your 
prayers, and I had to speak to him about it.’’ 

“What did he say?’’ I asked, regarding the 
trembling little culprit with all the severity I 
had the heart to assume. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


35 


“He said — he said — your little sister might 
speak to you,” she sobbed. 

“What else did he say?” 

“Why, Frank, I don’t know. He used such 
big, beautiful words, I can’t speak them but 
they were beautiful and they meant, that you 
would say your prayers again and that you were 
angelical . ” 


a 


36 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER VI. 

In my secret heart I adored Mr. Booth, 
Gabriel Booth he had been christened. Had 
the angel Gabriel himself, been a guest in our 
house he could not have won from me more 
reverence and devotion than did this beloved 
pastor. He was my beau ideal of manly per- 
fection and saintly goodness. His presence 
inspired me with mingled emotions of awe and 
delight, while his good opinion was of para- 
mount importance. Hence his kind expres- 
sions concerning me, which Marie so bung- 
lingly repeated, changed my prayerless per- 
turbation into a delirium of joy. I do not wish 
to be understood as having conceived a girlish 
passion for Mr. Booth, although to this day I 
find it difficult to analyze my feelings toward 
him at that time. They seem to have been — 
speaking with reverence — of the nature of the 
feelings of the Sisters of Bethany toward 
Jesus. It was the good within me that recog- 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


37 


nized and enthusiastically appreciated the 
superior good within him. 

My grudge against Nathan was, for the 
moment, forgotten, and indeed scarcely 
thought of during all the hours of that madly 
glad day. I could think only of my idol who 
had said I would pray again and who, shortly 
afterward, when I chanced to meet him in the 
hall, seemed not to remember he had heard 
anything unfavorable concerning my spiritual 
condition. Extending his hand, he said pleas- 
antly: “Good bye, Frank, I shall be absent 
from the city for a few days as I am about 
starting for the country to officiate at a wed- 
ding.” 

Marie, who chanced to hear his adieu, flew 
out of an adjoining room and accompanied him 
to the gate. As he stooped to give her a fare- 
well kiss, she whispered in his ear, and came 
running back to tell me that the very last thing 
she said to Mr. Booth was : 4 4 Pray for Frank. ’ ’ 

I was too happy at the time to notice the 
imputation which her request seemed to imply. 
But after my prolonged transport of delight the 
reaction came which was proportionately 


38 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


depressing. In the evening I retired to a quiet 
nook shadowed by a whispering poplar, giving 
myself up to torturing reflections concerning 
what Mr. Booth might think of me. 

Not long was I permitted to indulge in the 
solitude I had chosen, for Marie’s eager voice 
calling “Where’s Frank?’’ soon floated on the 
breeze, and was but a moment in advance of 
her petite figure, which airily pirouetted to my 
side. 

“Oh, I’ve found you at last, Miss Hideaway!’’ 
she exclaimed. “Something told me you were 
here. You know, Mr. and Mrs. Hatheway 
were going to buy things for their new house and 
mamma let me go with them. Well, we have 
just got back and what do you think, Frank? 
We went to Nathan’s where you got your chair. 
I told them about the chair, and what curious 
things Nathan had, and they went there, and 
Mr. Nathan asked me how you liked your 
chair, and I told him you were delighted with 
it and would not part with it for the 
world.” 

“I wish the chair was in Jericho and Nathan 
hanged,” I responded with a sudden burst of 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


39 


passion, startling to Marie, who shrank away 
from me in dismay. 

“I’m afraid of you, Frank,” she cried, “I 
never heard you speak so before. You must 
say your prayers, Frank,” she continued, after 
a solemn pause; “that’s what ails you. If you 
don’t say your prayers the bad one will surely 
get you. ’’ 

“Nonsense!” was my irreverent reply, 
whereat the little one was so shocked she ran 
away. 

I recalled her, saying: “It is your bedtime, 
Marie, and if you are afraid of me perhaps you 
had better go to our room by yourself.” 

“O, no, no! Don’t ask me to go to bed 
alone!” she exclaimed, with a pitiful quaver 
in her voice which was resistless, and called 
forth from me a reassuring smile. 

Her crooning song with which she invited 
sleep was on this night drawn out longer than 
usual and when the great blue eyes were finally 
curtained by the drooping lids and softly wav- 
ering lashes, the appearance of my now dreaded 
visitor was shortly imminent. Resolving not 
to give him audience, I quietly crept from 


40 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


Marie’s side and turned stealthy steps toward 
the parlor. As I passed Aunt Susan’s room I 
saw my mother, sitting on the side of the bed 
on which her foster-sister was reclining. She 
was bending over in confidential attitude, with 
her lips close to Aunt Susan’s sleepy ear, when 
I caught the words: “Marie says she talks to 
her new chair.’’ 

As my mother, whom I regarded as the soul 
of honor, had taught me to scorn eaves-drop- 
ping, I did not obey my first impulse to listen, 
and consequently could only conjecture that 
they were speaking of me. 

Aunt Susan’s habit was to retire early, but 
my mother seldom touched her pillow before the 
entire family was indoors. Awaiting the appear- 
ance of the loiterers she usually embraced the 
opportunity to go into Aunt Susan’s room, dis- 
turbing that good-natured lady’s first nap with 
a recital of her day’s trials and triumphs. 
Aunt Susan was so in the habit of responding, 
“Yes, dear,’’ to all my mother’s confidences 
that she often said it when in a semi-conscious 
condition, and sometimes when apparently fast 
asleep. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


41 


The parlor being vacant, I lounged on the 
sofa until after midnight and then quite sure 
that my would-be visitor had vacated my chair, 
went to my room. Again passing Aunt 
Susan’s door I saw my mother still in the posi- 
tion I had left her, and a half-smothered voice 
from the head of the pillow weakly breathed : 
“Yes, dear.” 

I did not see the wraith, nor did I pray that 
night. 


42 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER VII. 

Mysterious providences seemed to conspire 
to prevent me from having further interviews 
with the first owner of my chair for several 
weeks after the events recorded in the last 
chapter. 

The next day, my father’s protracted illness 
unexpectedly culminated in his death. Mamma 
was so grieved and prostrated by the shock as 
to require my constant attendance at her bed- 
side. Poor little sensitive Marie, refusing to 
sleep alone, had a cot in mamma’s room. She 
was a comfort both to mamma and myself, 
hovering cheerfully around us by day and 
crooning her strange little songs at night. 

She made a somewhat remarkable demon- 
stration at the moment when our father ceased 
to breathe. From infancy Marie had been his 
almost constant companion; the broad table- 
like arm of his invalid chair having been lux- 
uriously cushioned to accommodate her tiny 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


43 


form, she was nestled on it many hours of each 
day. When she outgrew her babyhood she 
was still seen perched upon it, sometimes with 
her slender arms wound round his neck, her 
soft cheek resting tenderly in the hollow of his, 
and her dimples coquetting with his wrinkles; 
and at others playing cunning little pranks, 
that occasioned him momentary forgetfulness 
of his sufferings. When her primer period came, 
the relish for the soft arm at her father’s side 
seemed rather to increase than diminish, for 
here Marie found sympathy and instruction 
which is usually the mother’s province. 
Here she sat, asking such questions as emanate 
from the brain of precocious childhood and 
which the wisest of the world find difficult to 
answer. When the summons came for him to 
join the band of disembodied spirits, going we 
know not whither, his struggle with the flesh 
lasted but a moment. A spasm contracted his 
features, and he gasped faintly: “They have 
come for me.” 

“Who has come for you, papa?” cried Marie. 

“Glory! Glory!” was his only answer, and 
he was gone. 


44 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


“O, papa, come back, come back, don’t let 
Glory take you,” cried the child in a frenzied 
voice, waving her arms aloft, then losing con- 
sciousness, she fell to the floor. 

Afterward, when questioned, she said: ‘‘I 
had been asking papa all about the spirit, the 
thing that makes us think, you know, and 
keeps us alive, and I was waiting for him to 
tell me how it got into the body and how it got 
out of the body, when all at once he rolled up 
his eyes and said Glory had come for him, and 
— I saw it! I saw Glory! I don’t remember 
any more. It made me blind.” 

Her cheerfulness under the great loss she 
had sustained was a mystery, until one day I 
overheard her saying to Mr. Booth, in a tremu- 
lous voice : “I must be glad papa has no more 
pain, and he is happy with the Glory, if it 
does make me ache to live without him.” 

Doubtless her courageous putting away of 
selfish grief had its influence upon mamma’s 
mind, and helped strengthen her to bear her 
sorrow, and with Marie’s example before me, I 
experienced self-reproach whenever my tears 
began to flow. My resentment toward N athan 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


45 


debarred me from seeking consolation for my 
loss in the religion I professed, teaching as it 
does love for one’s enemies. Through all 
those dark days I continued prayerless. 

Dreading to meet the deep questioning eyes 
of him who had insisted upon my praying for 
Nathan, I avoided my room at the midnight 
hour, until my mother’s health was fully re- 
stored. When Marie and I again took posses- 
sion, she seemed to be literally living in divine 
ecstasies. No sooner had we entered the room 
than she fell upon her knees before the fateful 
chair and gave vent to her emotions in simple, 
childish language, which, had it not been for 
the hardening process of the resentment I har- 
bored toward Nathan, would have melted my 
heart and better prepared me for the inter- 
view with the First Owner of the chair, which 
was to follow. He was in his seat ere the 
last note of the prolonged warble in which 
Marie indulged, had died away. 

“She is asleep,’’ he said, glancing at Marie 
and inclining his head toward me. “Shall I 
begin my story?’’ 

I was not prepared for his question, for 


46 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


I had intended to explain the present situ- 
ation in our family and inquire if he had any 
knowledge concerning my father in the spirit 
world. I hesitated a moment before saying : 
“I would like to hear your story, but can you 
tell me first about my father who has died since 
I saw you?” 

“It is well with your father,” he replied. 
“The Flame of Mercy always burns. Have 
you prayed for Nathan?” 

I was startled and annoyed by his abrupt 
change of the subject in which I was so deeply 
interested, and my heart hardening still more 
against Nathan, I made an answer which 
frightened me the moment it was uttered: “I 
shall never pray for Nathan !” 

He drew a long sigh which sounded like the 
warning rustle in a tree before a storm. 

This was followed by his saying softly: 
“Aunt Susan, as you call her, and Gabriel 
Booth, are the last in the line of my ancestors. 

4 4 Gabriel Booth — * ’ The clock struck twelve. 
A flash of the white flame and I was alone ! 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


47 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Inaccuracies may occur in my relation of the 
incidents contained in the story of the First 
Owner of the chair, as they have long lain 
among memory’s debris of half-forgotten 
things. His remarkable tale was told me in 
fragments, due to my many questions, and the 
fact of his short sittings, but as nearly as I can 
recall his story, was as follows : 

“Gabriel Booth, as I was about to say last 
night, is so much younger than Aunt Susan, 
who is in the decline of life, he will likely out- 
live her. Should he die without issue, his 
death would release me from the bondage of 
this chair. I need no more sit here. ’ ’ 

“But he will not die,’’ I said quickly, for the 
mere suggestion that it was possible for my 
beloved pastor to die, nearly took my breath 
away. 

“No, he is likely to live and marry and have 
offspring who for generations to come will 


48 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


hold me here,” he replied, dropping his lids as 
if to shut out an unwelcome vision. In an 
instant, however, his eyes were wide open and 
raised heavenward, while in a clear, triumphant 
voice, he said : ‘ ‘ But the Flame of Mercy always 
burns!” 

‘‘Why should Mr. Booth or his offspring 
keep you in the chair?” I questioned, anxious 
to learn all possible concerning my pastor’s 
responsibility in the matter. 

“The decree, the decree,” he repeated, 
“made it so!” 

“What decree?” 

“When I lived in the flesh in the latter part 
of the sixteenth century, King James was on 
the throne in England. Then it was that the 
decree went forth of which I am to tell you. 
My ease I dearly loved. While my younger 
brother and others of my kin were engaged in 
war, their armor blazing with heraldic signs, I 
had the family coat-of-arms carved on this 
chair in which I delighted to sit and receive 
applicants for my favor, for I was a man in 
authority. I sat here as you see me now, 
bedecked in jewels, precious gems of my ances- 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


49 


tors. I was proud of them. I wore them 
when my neighbors were starving. Yes, when 
some of my own kin were in need of food. In 
those days there was hatred and persecutions 
among the religious sects, and there were out- 
laws even from the families of those who were 
called the faithful. My beautiful daughter, 
Cornelia, was one of those. They said she was 
bewitched. 

“She was not bewitched — my daughter Cor- 
nelia was not bewitched,” he repeated; “but 
she possessed wonderful powers of divination 
which I now understand, but of which I was 
then ignorant. Her prophecies have all been 
fulfilled. She could not only foretell events, 
but she had the power to project her mind to 
distant scenes and describe what was actually 
passing in places which she had never visited. 
She was secretly consulted by many who were 
persecuted for their religion and often gave 
valuable information for the benefit of those in 
peril. Because she said her religion embraced 
only love she was reviled and spat upon. She 
said, ‘We are all children of one Father.’ She 
was firm in her religion and kept close to the 

4 


50 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


bosom of the Father, loving her enemies and 
doing good to those who despitefully used her, 
and for this she was condemned to the stake. 
I was myself a religious bigot Too indolent 
to actively persecute, I contented myself with 
acquiescing in the behests of others involving 
cruelty and wrong. When my own daughter 
was under the ban of persecution I was persuad- 
ed by my spiritual advisers to bow to author- 
ity higher than my own, and thus secure her 
salvation. I consented to the burning of her 
body to save her soul from everlasting fire ; for 
I had yet to learn the soul can never burn to 
purification save in the flame of God’s eternal 
love.” 

“Poor Cornelia,’’ I interposed. 

4 4 Don ’ t call her poor Cornelia, ’ ’ said he. “It 
is the sinner, not the one sinned against, who 
should be pitied. She was welcomed by the 
shining hosts. She can visit me, but I can 
not visit her, until the last of my race shall 
have departed this earth. You remember I 
told you who he is?’’ 

He paused as if for an answer. 

“Yes, Gabriel Booth,” I murmured low. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


51 


“Cornelia,” he continued, “was joined in 
wedlock to a man of high degree. He died 
soon after the birth of their only child, a son, 
and the last born of the generations, in the 
line of that son, is Gabriel Booth. Aunt 
Susan and Gabriel Booth, as I have before said, 
are all that are left of my race. Aunt Susan 
loves her ease as I loved mine. How often 
have I desired to say to her, ‘Never sit in your 
chair when duty calls you away from it. ’ But 
her ears are not open to my voice. * ’ 

Pausing, he sighed, closely scanning my fea- 
tures as he again mentioned the name written 
on my heart. 

“Gabriel Booth,” he said, “is like Cornelia’s 
son, whose name was also Gabriel. Worthy of 
such a mother, he was a noble boy. Inherit- 
ing her sturdy nature, as well as her surpas- 
sing beauty of feature and expression, he found 
means to appear at her funeral pyre, and 
would have perished with her, but for the 
restraining force that was used. Tender of 
years was he, and helpless in the hands of her 
enemies, but she called to him from the flames; 
‘Pray for our enemies, my son, pray for our 

4 


52 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


enemies!’ He said, when she had cried out 
thus, he saw her spirit ascend, and disappear in 
the clouds. Cornelia’s murderers were exceed- 
ingly bitter against the boy, threw him into 
prison and treated him most cruelly. His 
mother’s spirit was with him in his dungeon, 
strengthening him, although he knew it not. 
He bore his persecutions with amazing forti- 
tude, considering his tender years. And the 
more they hurt him, the more he prayed for 
them. 

“At length with the assistance of friends he 
escaped and was hidden in a cave where bleach- 
ing bones bore evidence that it had been the 
lair of wild beasts. A human skeleton was 
there and from the fleshless finger had rolled a 
ring of great value which the boy found. It is 
the same now worn by her whom you call Aunt 
Susan. An old monk from a distant monastery 
was his companion and instructor. He re- 
mained with him until in the course of events 
a price was put upon the head of his charge, 
then brought him to me for protection. 

“He urged me to bestir myself and set a 
guard around the boy; but I loved my ease and 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


53 


neglected my duty. Many a poor soul needed 
my help in those days, but I gave no heed to 
poverty or sorrow. I sat in this chair and 
looked from my palace window where I saw the 
afflicted pass by, and unconsciously congratu- 
lated myself on my more fortunate position. 
What little sympathy I experienced for others 
found expression only in words, or in giving 
the merest pittance, which I could easily spare. 
I never made a heroic sacrifice for any one. 

“One night, the last spent in my earthly 
body, I sat in this chair, dressed as now. Near 
midnight, as I was about to retire, a gentle 
knock at the door arrested my attention. It 
was the old man who had charge of Cornelia’s 
son. He came to tell me that the boy was in 
imminent peril, and asked my assistance. I 
refused ; whereupon the old man fell upon his 
knees before me and implored me, by all I 
held sacred, to rescue the boy. I was angry 
at his importunity. I spurned him with my 
foot. 

“Rising, he drew up his aged form, clothed 
in skins, he towered far above me, and stretch- 
ing forth his once powerful arm, with long 


54 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


bony fingers at me, and uttered these words: 
‘Because thou hast refused to listen to the cry 
of the poor and needy of thine own blood, in 
that chair shalt thou sit and mourn every night 
at this hour, until the last of thy race shall 
have departed this life. ’ At that moment, a 
stroke of paralysis ended my earthly life.’* 

I was just then relieved, by the flash of the 
white flame, of the presence of the mourner, 
whom I now sincerely pitied. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


55 


CHAPTER IX. 

Deserted so suddenly, I turned my blinking 
eyes from the chair where the unnatural light 
had appeared, to the bed where, to my sur- 
prise, lay Marie wide awake. 

“What are you sitting there for, Frank; why 
don’t you come to bed?” she said. 

“How long have you been awake?’’ said I, 
ignoring her question. 

“About a minute, I reckon. I’ve had a 
dream, Frank. It was about a boy. He ” 

“O, never mind!’’ I interrupted, “Don’t tell 
it to-night; go to sleep.” 

“It’s one of my real dreams, Frank. It will 
come true. Now don’t you want to hear it?” 

“Not to-night, Marie; I’m tired; go to sleep, 
dear. ” 

“Well, if I must I must,” said she, in a dis- 
appointed tone, “but that bad boy must be got 
out of jail. He’s so dreadfully bad, Frank, I 
like him.” 


56 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


Marie’s dream as it afterward transpired, 
was really about a street waif of whose arrest 
for assaulting a companion she had heard Mr. 
Booth read from an evening paper. 

It was Mr. Booth’s habit to occasionally visit 
the city prisons if, perchance, he might be able 
to render aid and consolation to some poor soul 
in affliction. Marie had for some time mani- 
fested a deep interest in this phase of his reli- 
gious duties, and often begged to accompany 
him. But having been as often assured that 
such places were not suitable for her to visit, 
she finally desisted from further importunity. 
The morning following her dream, she again 
opened the discussion. Finding, however, her 
appeals in vain, she contented herself with a 
promise from Mr. Booth that he would not 
fail to visit the prison, and try to secure the 
release of the boy with “yellow hair and big 
eyes,’’ whom she had seen in her dream. 

The boy, whose appearance answered to 
Marie’s description, was before the police judge 
when the little girl, all breathless, appeared 
and took her place beside Mr. Booth, whom she 
had surreptitiously followed. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


57 


“Why, Marie!” he exclaimed, in surprise. 

The child burst into tears. 

“That’s the boy!” she sobbed. “I’ll give 
all the money in my savings bank to pay his 
fine,” and suiting the action to the words, she 
walked up to the desk in front of the judge, 
and deposited her little tin bank. 

She now saw the eyes of the judge, the crim- 
inal, and of the motley crowd, upon her, and 
frightened at her own bravery, rushed from 
the room, and was safe at home some time in 
advance of Mr. Booth and the boy, who accom- 
panied him. 

Master William von Heidleburg’s introduc- 
tion to Miss Marie took place on the veranda, 
and the bad boy and good little girl were left 
there eyeing each other, while Mr. Booth went 
into the house for a few moments. 

Alone with him, Marie readily took the 
responsibility of entertaining her guest. 

“Mr. William von Heidleburg,” said she, “I 
dreamed about you last night. 

“Call me Bill for short,” said her compan- 
ion, rather roughly. 


58 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


“I would rather call you Willy, if you please. 
Willy is such a pretty boy’s name. ” 

“How ken I be Fightin’ Bill, if you call me 
by that baby name?’’ asked the young Bohe- 
mian, with contempt in his tone. 

He was a head taller than Marie and, as he 
drew himself up with a defiant air, he seemed 
to look down upon her with proud superiority. 
Spite of his tattered garments, Marie regarded 
his bold attitude with childish admiration, and 
there was a touch of respect in her voice when, 
after a moment’s hesitation, she said, “What 
makes you fight?’’ 

“ ’Cause I like to lick ’em boys wot call 

me names.’’ 

Marie was so shocked by the expletive that 
she began to cry. 

“Wot you cryin’ fer?” 

“ ’Cause you swore. I want you to stay 
with us and mamma won’t let you if you 
swear.’’ 

“Oh, well, I done goin’ to swear no more, 
unless it should happen to slip out, like a rat 
out its hole, you know. Did you say I was 
goin’ to git to live here?’’ 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


59 


Before Marie could answer, Mr. Booth made 
his appearance, accompanied by mamma who 
was in need of the services of a boy. 

She scanned the newcomer critically, and 
having learned he was a homeless orphan, 
offered him the position of chore-boy, which 
offer he gladly accepted. 

Marie was commissioned to show him the 
way to the kitchen, and as they passed into the 
hall William was heard to say, “Miss Marie, 
I’ll pay back that bank money of yourn as soon 
as I yern it.’’ 

William set to work in the kitchen under the 
direction of the cook, Marie busied herself in 
fitting up a little room for him in the attic. 
She robbed her own dresser of several little 
ornaments, which she highly prized; and to 
relieve the bareness of a corner shelf draped it 
with one of her ruffled skirts. The walls of 
the room were bare, and there were no pic- 
tures she could command. So she decided to 
draw the picture of an angel, to hang above 


60 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


the bed, “For,” said she, “if William looks at 
an angel it will make him good. ’ ’ 



ylHQCi 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


61 


CHAPTER X. 

Marie’s William, as he was dubbed, proved 
a success in oiling the kitchen machinery. 
During his first day it moved like clock work, 
and thereafter his little patron divided her 
attention between him and her wayward sister 
whose nightly interviews with the First Owner 
of the chair she surreptitiously watched. 
Marie was not habitually an early riser, but 
any unusual excitement caused her to be up 
with the lark. I was not surprised, when I 
awoke next morning, and missed her from my 
side to hear her voice mingling with that of Mr. 
Booth. They had met in the hall and it 
seemed were about to descend the stairs. I 
could not catch the words but they evidently 
involved an inquiry concerning her night’s rest, 
for I heard her say, “No, not very well, ’cause 
Frank ’sturbed me, talking to her chair about 
you and the decree, but I was too sleepy to 
stay awake, though I did want to know if she 


62 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


said her prayers. I haven’t seen her saying 
them yet and you said she would. ” 

As before stated my admiration for Gabriel 
Booth was my own secret. Not by word or 
look had I ever intimated to him, or any mem- 
ber of the family, the state of my feelings 
toward him. In truth, I did not realize at the 
time the life-grip he had on my heart. Look- 
ing backward I now understand something of 
the tenacious nature of the emotions which 
association with one of his lofty nature devel- 
ops in the heart of a susceptible young girl. I 
stood in great awe of him and often wondered 
at Marie’s familiarity, acting as though he 
were an ordinary mortal. My mortification at 
the declaration which I had overheard was 
excessive. 

“What would Mr. Booth think of my talking 
of him to a chair?’’ I asked myself with ting- 
ling cheeks. I could not deny it. 

At night I warmly questioned Marie on the 
subject. 

“O, yes,’’ she said, “of course I told Mr. 
Booth and I asked him if he loved you, and he 
never said a word, he just turned red and the 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


veins on his forehead swelled up as if he were 
angry — but he wasn’t — and I was ’sprised, for 
I really think he does love you.” 

‘‘Why do you think so, Marie?” 

“O, because my mind smells it. My mind 
smells the things I can’t see just as my nose 
smells something sweet about a rose.” 

“Well, Marie, I hope in future you will put 
the nose of your mind to something more 
important than trying to find out what Mr. 
Booth thinks.” 

“Now, Frank, you are not angry any more 
than Mr. Booth was. You are just trying to be. 
I never saw two people before that acted as 
you do. You love him and he loves you and I 
don’t see why you are both trying to make 
believe you don’t love each other. Now, I 
like to tell Mr. Booth I love him. I just glo- 
rify in it. I could hardly live without him. I 
tell him everything. He listened with big, 
big eyes when I told him you spoke his name 
to the chair again last night, and you said, 
‘Did the boy pray for his mother’s murderers?’ 
I don’t know but what Mr. Booth thinks about 
it for he never said a word, but mamma and 


64 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


Aunt Susan were worried about you. I told 
them, and I heard Aunt Susan tell mamma that 
your mind was unsettled and mamma said your 
case must have attention. They are going to 
have a doctor and, Frank, it’s all because you 
won’t say your prayers. .You — better — say — 

your ” Sleep overcame the sweet little 

chatterer. As I t left her bedside a slight rust- 
ling sound at my door attracted my attention. 
I opened it and there stood mamma. 

“Mamma!” I exclaimed, surprised to dis- 
cover her whom I thought incapable of such an 
action. She did not look in the least discon- 
certed, but frankly stated: “I have been list- 
ening to see if you were awake, for,” said 
she, in an undertone, as she stepped inside, 
“Marie says you are in the habit of talking to 
your new chair at night ; but I thought I would 
not speak to you about it until I had assured 
myself that she was not mistaken. ’ ’ 

“Well, are you sure now?” I said; my man- 
ner indicating embarrassment and displeasure. 

“I am sorry you are not pleased, Frank, but 
do you think* your poor heart-broken mother 
would stay awake at night and watch over you, 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


65 


now that you and Marie are all she has left, if 
she did not love you?” 

Tears were in mamma’s eyes, and her voice 
was pitifully broken. I was silent. Her 
indirect allusion to my father’s death had con- 
quered my temper, but I was at a loss how to 
answer. 

Just then Marie awoke with a start and 
looked around. “Why, mamma,” said she, 
“what are you crying about?” 

It was now mamma’s turn to show embar- 
rassment, and she hastily left us, without 
further explanation. 


66 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER XI. 

Next morning our family physician, Dr. 
Jones, a tried and trusted friend, dropped in, 
ostensibly to make a friendly call. It devolved 
upon me to entertain him, mamma having 
excused herself for a short time, on plea of 
family duties. Somehow, I was not at ease, 
and when, after a few moments of constrained 
conversation, on my part, he requested me to 
play for him, I gladly assented with a sense of 
relief. Alas, I had scarcely touched the keys 
when Marie came rushing in, dressed for a 
walk. 

“Oh, doctor,” said she, “I’m so glad you’ve 
come to see Frank, for she keeps right on talk- 
ing to her chair, and she don’t say her prayers 
any more and she’s all upset! She ought to 
have pills and castor oil, I’m sure; when I told 
Mr. Booth he looked very, very serious. Oh, 
there’s Mr. Booth now. I promised to go with 
him for a walk. Good bye, doctor.” And 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


67 


Marie disappeared as suddenly as she had 
come. 

Turning smilingly, the doctor said to me: 
“What does all this mean? Are you really not 
well?” 

“I am perfectly well, I never felt better in 
my life.” 

“And you say your prayers and don’t talk to 
your chair ?” said the doctor, inquiringly. 

I looked the indignation I dared not express 
while a hot flush mounted my face. 

“Don’t be hurt or offended, Frank,” said 
the doctor, drawing his chair nearer to me, 
“Your dear father begged me to be a father to 
you when he should go, and I will be frank 
and tell you your mamma is worried about the 
state of your health, and asked me to call this 
morning to see if I could do anything for you. ” 

“Thank you, doctor; I feel quite well.” I 
said, touched by his kind manner. 

“Have you been troubled lately with head- 
ache?” 

“No, doctor, not at all. I feel quite well,” 
I repeated. 

“Now, Frank,” said the doctor in a persuas- 


5 


68 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


ive tone, “I will not urge you to confide in me, 
but your mother is greatly distressed about 
you, and desires me to prescribe for you. She 
says you appear abnormally nervous during the 
day, and you hold nightly vigils and talk to a 
chair in your room. If this is the case, I can 
give you medicine which will quiet your nerves 
and make you sleep.” 

“I do not want to sleep, and I do not talk to 
my chair,” I replied with emphasis. “But, 
doctor, as you are such a good friend, and 
have done so much for us, I feel that it would 
be wrong and ungrateful for me to deceive 
you. I have kept the secret that I am going 
to tell you from mamma, because I was afraid 
she would think my strange experience was all 
imagination and I knew it is not. 

“I bought an antique chair awhile ago and 
had it put in the alcove of my room, and every 
night someone, who says he is the First Owner 
of the chair, comes and sits in it. He has 
been dead hundreds of years, and he tells me 
things that occurred while he was in the flesh. 
Of course, he is a spirit now, but he has the 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


69 


power of making himself appear to me and 
no one else can see him or hear him speak.” 

“Well, well!” said the doctor. “This is 
remarkable. How did Marie find out about 
it?” 

“She doesn’t know anything about it. She 
thinks she has heard me talking to the chair, 
because I sometimes ask the First Owner 
questions, and that is all she knows, and that 
is all anyone knows about it, except yourself.” 

“What does Marie mean by insisting that 
you do not say your prayers? Does the pres- 
ence in the chair interfere with your devo- 
tions?’ 

“Why, no; that is another part of the mat- 
ter that I would rather not tell. The wraith 
only comes a few moments every night. ’ ' 

“How does he look?” 

Mamma’s return to the room prevented me 
from answering and put an end to our conver- 
sation. Soon afterward the doctor departed, 
leaving a powder, with directions for taking. 
Resenting the assumption which liis prescrip- 
tion implied, I gave the powder to the winds, 
consigned the directions to the waste basket, 


70 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


and went about practicing my music without 
the slightest twinge of conscience. 

Still the doctor’s call had left an uneasy 
impression on my mind which I could not 
entirely disperse. I intuitively felt that what 
he probably imagined to be my mental condi- 
tion was giving him great concern, and 
although it seemed to me I was taking the 
proper course at the time, I began to regret 
having confided in him. 

I wonder, if it was a premonition of coming 
events painful to bear, which weighed my 
mind, so that in a short time it became impos- 
sible for me to continue playing. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


71 


CHAPTER XII. 

Nothing soothes the troubled mind like sol- 
itude. I sought my room. On my way, I saw, 
across the hall, Mr. Booth’s door standing 
wide open. Remembering he was out walk- 
ing with Marie, I paused and looked in. Open 
upon his table lay a book, and an innocent 
curiosity impelled me to step forward and 
glance at its pages. It proved to be a photo- 
graph album, and the first picture upon which 
my astonished eyes rested, was a photograph of 
the carving on the back of my antique chair. 

Impulsively I caught up the book and hurried 
with it to my room intent on comparing the 
picture with the carving. Looking from one 
to the other, I heard the voices of Mr. Booth 
and Marie. Having returned, I knew that Mr. 
Booth would be likely immediately to miss his 
album. 

I was in a dilemma. If I returned the book 
to him, an explanation would be expected ; if 


72 ' 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


I returned it surreptitiously, he might suspect 
me of taking it. While hesitating, I heard 
Marie say, “Oh, no, no, William has not taken 
it. He’s a grand fighter but I know he 
wouldn’t steal pictures. Why, he has one 
already. I made him an angel and hung it 
over his bed.” 

My decision was made. William should not, 
for a moment, rest under suspicion. I took 
the album immediately to its owner confessing 
why I had borrowed his property, and begged 
his pardon. He treated my plea for pardon 
lightly but seemed much surprised when I 
told him about the carving on the chair. He 
said the photograph was the copy of his family 
coat-of-arms, which on castle and armor, on 
shield and seal had in various ways, been pre- 
served through many generations. He also 
said he was of English descent, that his par- 
ents died while he was an infant, and he was 
not aware that he had any relatives living. 
He thought he was the last of his race. 

I stood in his study door during our conver- 
sation. Mamma chanced to see me there and 
her sense of propriety was aroused. She 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


73 


called me away, and when we were alone, 
expressed the fear that Mr. Booth might think 
me bold if I allowed myself to converse with 
him in his room. 

My foolish pride and my sensitiveness con- 
cerning the chair, checked the explanation, 
which I should have given, and the conscious- 
ness of harboring wrong feelings made me 
wretched. All my comforts seemed to have 
suddenly forsaken me. Mamma thought I 
behaved badly; probably Mr. Booth thought 
me bold; and there was no surmising how 
horrible Dr. Jones’ opinion of my case might 
be. Aunt Susan, with whom I was a favorite, 
was the only person in the family of whose 
sympathy I felt sure, and I went to her for 
consolation. 

As I entered her room, she was half reclin- 
ing in her easy chair, and I was startled by the 
striking resemblance between her attitude and 
that usually assumed by the First Owner of my 
chair. Her fan lay upon her lap. It was 
always there in warm weather, for she rarely 
used it, and when she did make the effort the 


74 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


result was only a wave or two which seemed 
to exhaust her. 

“Aunt Susan,” I said, “the weather is so 
warm I don’t feel like doing anything, and I 
thought I would like to sit with you until time 
to give my lesson.” 

“Certainly, my dear,” she replied, “we have 
not had many visits together of late, and I 
have several things on my mind I can say only 
to you when we are alone.” 

I was again reminded by her tone and man- 
ner, of the wraith, and the impression of the 
likeness grew as she continued to address me. 

“You have always been my favorite, Frank, 
next to your mother, I love you better than 
anyone in the world. I have no kin that I 
know of, but sometimes I wonder if there might 
not be someone wfyp would claim to be heir to 
my property if T should die; and I have 
resolved to make my will after this warm 
weather is over. I want your mother and you 
and Marie to share equally in the estate, but 
to you will be given all my jewels, heirlooms 
of our family which will probably become 
extinct when I die.” 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


75 


Aunt Susan’s allusions to the time when she 
would be taken away drew me nearer to her 
and I began silently caressing her hand, which 
lay upon the arm of her chair, small and fair, 
singularly like the one which nightly rested on 
the arm of my antique treasure ; and strangely 
enough I suddenly recognized, for the first 
time, in the old ring she wore, the facsimile of 
the one I had noticed on his finger. My sur- 
prise was very great. 

Aunt Susan, whose thoughts were absorbed 
in the subject she was discussing, did not 
observe my agitation, and continued, with 
increasing emphasis: 

“Property, my dear, is a sacred trust. It 
should be preserved in families, and I hope 
your children’s children will be benefited by 
the little you receive from me. Your mother 
is prudence itself, and if you follow her advice 
you need never be in want: But don’t pur- 
chase too many antique chairs!’’ 

Conscious that her caution was intended as 
a gentle reproof, which amused me more than 
it hurt, I said playfully, “Now, Auntie Susan, 
you have never yet taken the trouble to climb 


76 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


the stairs to see my chair and if you ever 
should I think you will say my money was well 
invested. It is a treasure!" 

“Surely, my dear, if the weather should be 
cooler 1 will go up to-morrow and see your 
wonderful chair." 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


77 


CHAPTER XIII. 

I was conscious of having suddenly become 
an object of more than usual interest to Mr. 
Booth. Several times during the day, in the 
parlor and at the meals, I felt the magnetism 
of his glances which were quickly withdrawn 
whenever I chanced to look toward him. It 
occurred to me that he might desire to further 
pursue the subject on which we were convers- 
ing, when mamma had called me away from 
his door, and that, after all he did not think me 
so bold, as I had feared. Nor was I mistaken. 
Next morning I chanced to meet him on the 
veranda and, being alone, he asked me if I 
had any objection to his seeing my antique 
chair. 

“No, indeed,” I replied, quite cordially, “I 
shall be glad to show you my interesting relic 
of your ancestors.” 

“Do you really think it is a relic belonging 
to my ancestors, Frank?” 


78 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


“Why, Mr. Booth, I know it is.” 

“How did you gain your information?” 

“It’s First Owner told me so. ” 

Mr. Booth looked mystified. “Your state- 
ment calls for an explanation, does it not?” he 
questioned pleasantly. 

“I don’t know all the particulars yet, myself, 
Mr. Booth. When I do, I will tell you.” 

“Well, 1 suppose 1 must rest content with 
seeing the chair for the present. When will 
it be on exhibition?” 

“You can see it now if you will come to my 
room. * * 

“Shall I follow you, Frank?” hesitatingly. 

“Of course,” with great assurance. 

Mamma happened to be in the hall as we 
passed through. “I am going to show Mr. 
Booth my chair,” I said, in answer to her look 
of inquiry. 

She stared at me aghast. “Frank,” she 
exclaimed, “are you crazy? I will show Mr. 
Booth the chair myself. * ’ 

I understood instantly, by mamma’s man- 
ner, that she deemed what I was intending to 
do not the proper thing. But why she at- 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


79 


tached any impropriety to my action, I had not 
the remotest idea until afterward, when she 
unfolded to me certain notions concerning the 
sacredness of young ladies’ apartments. 

I was exceedingly mortified and ashamed to 
meet Mr. Booth, but when, an hour later, it 
was arranged for us to practice church music 
together at the piano, he relieved me of further 
distress by treating me with unmistakable 
respect and consideration. 

While still at the piano our thoughtful fam- 
ily doctor called and invited me to drive with 
him to the country home of one of his patients, 
a favor I was glad to accept. 

During our drive the doctor questioned me 
closely as to my interviews with the visitor 
before named, and I knew he thought me 
laboring under a hallucination regarding the 
interviews which I described. 

“You know, Frank,” he said, “many people 
have imagined they saw objects which had no 
existence. It is a very common thing. For 
instance, a friend of mine was sure she saw a 
cat under her table, which was not there, and 
she even thought she heard it mew.” 


80 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


“Doctor,” said I, “suppose you had been 
through precisely my experience, could any- 
one persuade you it was all imaginary?” 

“Certainly,” said the doctor. “I should 
know it was imaginary, because spirits don’t 
come back to this world and talk with people. ’ ' 
“How do we know they don’t, doctor?” 

“I know it as a demonstrated fact, that all 
such illusions under which you are laboring, 
are occasioned by an abnormal condition of the 
brain. If I were to see your visitor in the 
chair, I would say my brain was at fault. ' ’ 
“But, doctor, the Bible tells about spirits 
appearing to people, and even Christ himself 
appeared and talked with his apostles, after 
he had been crucified.” 

“Don’t quote scripture to me, Frank; I am 
not posted in that line. I am presenting the 
subject from a purely scientific point of view, 
and the unsatisfactory results of the investiga- 
tions which have thus far been made in occult 
science, force me to doubt the genuineness of 
so-called spiritual manifestations. Now, it is 
a scientific fact, that the human brain is unre- 
liable. You sleep and dream remarkable 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


81 


dreams, as real at the time as the experience 
you have had with your chair; but when you 
awake, you know there was no reality in the 
vision. Now, why may not your mind be 
sometimes in a condition for you to dream 
things that are unreal, when you are awake? 
The hypnotist controls the mind of his subject 
in a most remarkable manner. Psychical 
phenomena are a most interesting study. I 
confess I have not been able to give the sub- 
ject the attention which it deserves at the hands 
of every physician. There is a private institu- 
tion, however, up in what is called Green Hills, 
where nervous and brain troubles are very 
successfully treated; and I would advise you, 
if you cannot bring your reason to your aid in 
dispelling your hallucination about your chair, 
to put yourself under the care of the specialist 
in the institution at Green Hills. I will see 
that you are at no expense for the treatment, 
and it may be given out to your friends and 
pupils that you are away on a visit.” 

Conflicting emotions deprived me, for the 
moment, of the power of speech ! 

“Mental disorders, if not properly treated, 


82 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


may lead to serious consequences,” said the 
good doctor, observing my hesitation. The 
solicitude which was manifested in his voice 
and kindly eyes, touched me, mortified, indig- 
nant and distressed though I was. 

“I thank you very much for your kind 
offer,” I replied, suppressing my feelings with 
a great effort, “and 1 suppose it would be use- 
less for me to try to convince you that my 
interviews with the First Owner of my chair, 
are not as real as the interview I am having 
with you at this moment, but I want to ask you 
why he has been able to tell me so many facts 
which it would have been impossible for me to 
discover from any other source. I did not 
know many of the things about Aunt Susan 
until he told me, and how can I account for his 
developments about Mr. Booth?” 

“Perhaps, unconsciously, your mind may 
have dwelt more than usual, of late, on your 
Aunt Susan and possibly upon Mr. Booth.” 

My face flushed and I shook my head in 
decided denial. 

Without appearing to notice my action, the 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


83 


doctor continued; “I know a man whose wife 
disappeared and when all search for her had 
proved unavailing, he slept and dreamed she 
had been accidentally suffocated in a bin of 
wheat in his barn, and there they found her 
body. I know a woman, who in broad daylight, 
standing before her mirror, saw, in a vision, her 
husband, who was in a distant city, stabbed and 
killed, the same hour in which the fatal knife 
really was driven to his heart. Now, there is 
no absolute proof that either of these persons 
might not have had the same experience in 
their dreams, had their loved ones been alive 
and in their homes at the time. 

“I once dreamed that my wife was dying and 
the impression on my mind was so vivid when 
I awoke that I arose in the night and went to 
a neighbor’s, where she was sitting up with 
the sick, to find her in usual health. Had she 
been dying, believers in visions would have 
used my dream to confirm their theories.” 

“Marie dreams many things that come to 
pass,” I said, “and I wonder if they are all 

coincidences.” 

0 


84 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


“Of course they are,” replied the doctor, 
with great assurance. “She dreams many 
things that never come to pass, does she not? 
Every coincidence between a dream and a 
reality, is made much of by superstitious people. 
You may be mistaken about the first owner 
of your chair stating facts. The proofs you 
have given me are by no means conclusive evi- 
dence, to my mind. In any event after you 
have taken a course at Green Hills, I think I 
shall hear no more about your nightly visitor. ” 

“Doctor,” said I, “I don’t want to goto 
Green Hills. I cannot be persuaded that I 
am laboring under a hallucination. Have you 
said anything to mamma about it?” 

“I have discussed the matter with your 
mamma, and she is anxious to have you go, 
and I hope you will consent, if it is only to 
gratify her. You owe all you have and are to 
your dear mother, Frank ; she would lay down 
her life for you. Green Hills is a cool retreat 
where you may enjoy yourself to your heart’s 
content during this warm weather. There is 
a library and a piano, and you can take your 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


85 


favorite music and practice all you please. If 
you do not like the place, you can come home 
immediately.” 

‘‘I will consider it,” I said; and the conver- 
sation turned to other topics. 


86 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

Marie came running out to meet me on my 
return from my drive with the doctor. 

“O, Frank,” said she, ‘‘William has had an 
awful fight — awful /” she repeated. ‘‘Some 
big boys came along where he was at work and 
one of them put a chip on his shoulder and 
dared him. I was at the window and saw it 
all. He fought like a tiger — William did. He 
pulled out hair and made the boy’s nose bleed 
and jaggled his eye and pounded him all over. 
I screamed as loud as I could for them to stop 
but I couldn’t make them hear me, so I got the 
police whistle William gave me when he first 
came, and blew it and the boys ran away and 
left William swearing like everything. My! 
But it was dreadful! William has got a big 
scratch on his face and one of his teeth is loose, 
and he walks lame. I want some of your court 
plaster to put on his scratch; it’s bleeding.” 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


87 


Marie followed me to our room, and, as she 
received the plaster for the benefit of the 
young pugilist, she remarked, “I’ll have to 
draw another angel for William. One don’t 
keep him from fighting ; but, I tell you, Frank, 
(in a confidential tone) he can fight!’’ 

I was glad Marie had found something to 
occupy her attention for I longed to be alone. 
All the doctor had said to me was whirling in 
my mind; but the thing that most disturbed 
me was his plan for me to go to Green Hills. 
A premonition that, in the end, I would go to 
please mamma, made me exceedingly nervous; 
and worse still, as I pondered the arguments 
the doctor had used to prove my visitor to be 
a creature of my imagination, I really lost faith 
in his reality. 

I finally arose and walked unconsciously 
toward the cause of all my trouble, and was 
standing beside it, when Aunt Susan appeared 
in the open door. She had fulfilled her promise. 
The day was cooler and she had come. 

“You see, I am here, spite of those dreadful 
stairs,’’ she said, panting with the unusual 
effort she had made; “and now," — coming 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


forward to where I stood — * ‘ I find you worship- 
ing your idol. ’ ’ 

“What do you think of it, Auntie?” 

“It is a magnificent old relic, Frank, and 
looks ancient enough to have come out of the 
ark.” 

I was delighted. “Sit in it and try its vir- 
tues,” I said. 

“Why, it seems to me, I have seen some- 
thing somewhere that was like this carving on 
the back,” she said, examining it more crit- 
ically. 

“Mr. Booth has a photograph corresponding 
to it in his album. Perhaps that is what you 
have seen.” 

“No — let me think!” dropping her head 
slightly and raising it after a moment’s reflec- 
tion, with an air of certainty. “1 know now. 
It was engraved on an old silver plate that I 
played with when a little girl. I don’t know 
whatever became of it. Of course, I’ll try the 
chair; that’s what I made my fatiguing trip 
up here for;” and suiting the action to the 
word, she sat down in the chair. 

Her attitude, the pose of her head, and her 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


89 


hand resting on the arm of the chair, were all 
so strikingly like the peculiarities which I had 
noticed in the First Owner, I was filled with 
profound astonishment. 

“Aunt Susan,” said I, abruptly, “what do 
you know about your ancestors. You told me 
yesterday you thought you were the last living 
of your family. Now, I have my doubts 
about it.” 

“Why, my dear?” 

“Because — because — ” I stammered. Should 
I again give my secret away? 

Aunt Susan forestalled my decision. 

“Has your opinion anything to do with your 
talking to your chair? You need not hesitate 
to tell me. Your mamma has made me her 
confidant in the matter, and I agree with her, 
and the doctor, that you should go at once to 
Green Hills for treatment” 

Recognizing, at once, that Aunt Susan was 
also in the plot to send me away, and that she 
had probably been sent to reconcile me to the 
inevitable, I looked at her in chagrined silence. 

“Don’t be afraid to tell me what you talk 
to your chair about,” she said, with assuring 


90 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


kindness; “Doctor Jones says your com muni- 
cation to him was confidential and he is not at lib- 
erty to divulge it, but Marie says she has heard 
you talk of me, and also of Mr. Booth, to your 
chair, in the night. ” 

I suddenly resolved to tell Aunt Susan about 
the First Owner of the chair. She listened with 
amazement. 

“No wonder the doctor says your case is 
remarkable,” she said, when I had concluded; 
“You ought not to stay in this house another 
night. You are in danger of losing your 
mind.” 

“I don’t believe a word of it. 1 don’t 
believe I am in danger of losing my mind, ’ ’ I 
replied indignantly. “If you are all deter- 
mined I shall go to Green Hills, I suppose I 
shall have to go; but I don’t want Marie, or 
Mr. Booth, or anyone, to know where I have 
gone. ’ ’ 

“No one but the Doctor will ever know. It 
is to your interest and the interest of the fam- 
ily that it be understood you are away on a 
visit.” 

Aunt Susan’s errand having been accom- 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


91 


plished, she arose, with an air of satisfaction to 
depart. 

“This is really a very comfortable chair,*’ 
said she, laying her hand, glittering with the 
ring of her ancestor, caressingly on the back. 

I could not forbear saying, “Aunt Susan, 
that ring you have on, is exactly like the one 
worn by the person, or spirit, I have been 
telling you about. ’ * 

She looked at me with a startled expression. 

“Frank,” said she, “you will have to go 
to-morrow. This thing is working on you. ” 

Struck with the absurdity of her declaration, 
I burst into uncontrollable laughter. It is so 
unusual for me to make such a demonstration, 
it only confirmed Aunt Susan’s fears for my 
reason, and she went away the picture of 
despair. 


92 


THE WHITE FLAME 


CHAPTER XV. 

I feared an effort would be made, on the 
part of mamma and Aunt Susan, to prevent 
further intercourse with the First Owner of my 
chair, but as I was going to Green Hills next 
day, my usual habits were not interfered 
with. 

Marie was asleep, my door was locked, the 
keyhole stuffed, and I sat waiting for my vis- 
itor, when he appeared. He saluted me after 
his usual fashion, but at the same time gave me 
a searching look. 

“You seem to be having trouble,” he said. 

“Yes,” I replied; “shall I tell you about it?” 

“I shall be glad to hear. Perhaps I can 
assist you. * ’ 

I rapidly rehearsed all that had occurred to 
make it necessary for me to leave home. 

“Now,” said I, “is there any way by which 
you can convince me that you are not a crea- 
ture of my imagination?” 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


93 


“None of which I know,” said he, “except 
through your inner consciousness, and that 
would not convince your friends.” 

. “May I touch your sleeve?” I said. 

“You may try to touch it, if you wish, but 
there is really no sleeve here that the human 
hand can feel. ” 

He held out his arm toward me. I bent 
forward and attempted to touch the velvet 
loosely falling from it, but my finger felt noth- 
ing, although it appeared to be pressed into the 
rich fabric. 

I trembled when I withdrew my hand, and a 
shiver passed through my frame. 

The First Owner noticed my agitation. “It 
is but natural,” he said, “that you should feel 
as you do. You are the first person who has 
owned the chair, to whom I have appeared, 
who has not exhibited signs of superstitious 
fear; but I am powerless to harm you, if I 
desired. You are a brave girl. I shall miss 
you, for it is seldom I have the opportunity to 
converse with one in the earthly body. 

“All that I have told you about Mr. Booth 
and Aunt Susan is true. I intended to. have 


94 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


carried the genealogy of our family from Cor- 
nelia's son, Gabriel, down to Gabriel Booth, 
so you would understand all about it, but that 
must be deferred until we meet again. 

“Aunt Susan’s property should rightfully go 
to Gabriel Booth, but she does not know it. 
It is for you to tell her, and I ask you once 
again to pray for Nathan.” 

- The last words had scarcely left his lips, 
when the white flame blazed high, and he dis- 
appeared from view. 

I sat so long in my chair thinking over the 
remarkable statements of my visitor that I 
finally fell asleep and did not awaken until the 
early morning. 

“Frank,” said Marie, “what made you get 
up so early?” 

I looked in a dazed way around the room, 
and it occurred to me that I had slept in my 
chair all night, but I wisely refrained from 
giving my sister a hint of the situation. 

“Why don’t you speak, Frank,” she said; 
“I want to tell you my dream.” 

“All right; tell it!” 

“Well, it was about William’s mother.” 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


95 


“How do you know it was William 'smother?’* 

“She told me so, and he looks just like his 
mother; only she is beautifuller. You know, 
Frank, she is an angel now. She came and 
bent over me and kissed me and told me to 
take care of William ; that’s all there is of it. 

“I presume William’s scratch is worse. It 
is a very deep scratch. That bad boy dug his 
nails in dreadfully, but I tell you William 
fought him back like a hero. 

“William says he won’t take a back seat for 
any boy — not if I put a hundred angels in his 
room. He is determined to stand up for his 
rights. He says he is not a bully and won’t be 
bullied. But he’s promised not to swear only 
when he can’t help it. Now, isn’t that nice of 
him, Frank?” 

I signified my approval of William’s course, 
whereupon Marie arose, dressed herself, and 
went down stairs. 

Presently mamma came to my room, and 
before she left, plans had been agreed upon for 
me to leave that afternoon for Green Hills. 

When Marie learned of it, she was inconsol- 
able, and she even neglected William, who, 


96 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


after all, was obliged to lay up for a few days, 
like a battered ship, for repairs. 

Although very busy with my preparations, I 
found time to visit Aunt Susan’s room and beg 
her pardon for seeming to trifle with her solic- 
itude for my health. She understood my apol- 
ogy as an acknowledgment on my part, that 
her conjectures concerning my condition were 
correct, but I hastened to undeceive her. 

“There is nothing the matter with me,” I 
said. “The imagination of my friends con- 
ceive a condition that does not exist, but as it 
is impossible for me to convince them of their 
error, I intend to submit to their wishes with 
all the fortitude I can command. I think the 
time will come, when you will all acknowledge 
your mistake. 

“When I return, I expect to learn from the 
first owner of my chair the genealogy of your 
family. You are one of his descendants and 
he knows all about you. ’ ’ 

Aunt Susan regarded me uneasily, and 
although I intended to tell her about Mr. Booth 
and her property, I paused abruptly, satisfied 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


97 


that what I was saying was only confirming 
her in her opinion that my mind was unsettled. 

Adieu to my friends was a trying ordeal for 
me, and when I took the carriage for the depot 
it was no easy matter to appear natural. Mr. 
Booth managed to say, without being over- 
heard, when he bade me farewell, “I hope you 
will pray for me, Frank.” 

Marie hugged and kissed me again and again, 
and finally shouted from the carriage to Mr. 
Booth, who stood in the door, “I shall kiss her 
a thousand times for you, too, Mr. Booth.” 

He did not, or pretended not, to hear as he 
turned and went into the house. 


98 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

Green Hills, little sisters of mountains, are 
what their name implies, a stretch of emerald 
hills whose eastern slope touches one of the 
most picturesque valleys in the state of New 
York. Midway between the two highest points 
of rising ground, is a plateau of many acres. 
On this strip of table land, a mile distant from 
the railroad station, stands an imposing struc- 
ture, known as Green Hills Sanitarium. At 
this place I arrived late in the evening of the 
day I left home. Dr. Jones, who had taken a 
train in advance of mine, was there to welcome 
me. He introduced me to the medical staff, 
two intellectual looking men, the elder Dr. Har- 
vey and the younger Dr. Hamilton. 

I rested well this first night, and when I 
arose, my mirror reflected a face the very pic- 
ture of health. 

After breakfast I was introduced to the doc- 
tor’s family, and a number of patients, under 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


99 


my assumed name, Miss Whipple. I was then 
invited into Dr. Harvey's office. After answer- 
ing a number of tiresome questions concerning 
my health, I was dismissed, and left him 
scratching his head. He said he would see me 
later in the day. 

I strolled out into the beautiful grounds. 
Here was a ravishing scene. Trees, fountains, 
flowers, and birds made a paradise of an 
unrivaled stretch of landscape. Here and there 
rustic seats were scattered. Occupying one of 
these, presently a patient, to whom I had 
been introduced, joined me. She was an 
elderly lady, possessing a refined and interest- 
ing face ; when she addressed me the tender 
melancholy of her voice, touched a sympathetic 
chord in my heart. 

“I hope you will not find it dull here,” she 
said, “we are all one family, brothers and sis- 
ters, as it were, in tribulation.” 

“I think I shall really enjoy my visit here,” 
I replied, “it is such a lovely place.” 

“Oh, I thought you one of the patients, 
excuse my mistake.” 

“You have made no mistake. I am here 
L of C. 


100 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


because my friends thought I needed a change 
of air. They imagined I was nervous. " 

“I believe that is the case with most of us, 
Miss Whipple ; still there may be a few here who 
are really suffering from serious mental dis- 
orders. I have discovered some very peculiar 
cases myself. " 

“There is a sweet young girl here who 
bought an old chair, a relic of past generations, 
and one night she saw a ghost in it, and was so 
frightened she fainted, and although the fit 
passed off, her mind has been considered 
unsettled ever since. Her physicians thought 
the appearance imaginary, but she talks 
intelligently about it. ' ’ 

“I wonder what became of the chair?" I 
asked. 

“Oh, that was returned to the man who sold 
it to her, and he paid back half the price. Do 
you think, Miss Whipple, it is possible for 
spirits to appear to us while we are in the 
flesh?" 

“The Bible says it is," I replied evasively. 

“I know it does, but some of the most cele- 
brated physicians contend that there can be 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


101 


no supernatural appearance where natural law 
governs. I would give all I possess, and life 
itself, if by any means I could bring to me the 
spirit of my dear son, who lately died, and hear 
him say, ‘Mother, I am happy.’ 

“My church doctrine is that they who die in 
unbelief, as he did, will be consigned to end- 
less torment. The thought drives me mad. 
I suffer unutterable anguish every moment, 
although I can not really believe he is lost, and 
yet the fear haunts me. It seems to me I 
would die of joy if I could but know he has 
found happiness where he is, for he had but 
little of it here.” 

Her eyes were dry, her grief too deep for 
tears. I knew not what to say to comfort her 
and was silent. 

“It is well I came here,” she said, after a 
moment’s pause, “fof Dr. Hamilton has given 
me some hope. He claims that the good 
Father disciplines his children to draw them to 
Him, and He could not be a kind father if He 
punished a soul except to make it better. He 
thinks that ultimately every prodigal will be 
welcomed home. But I have suffered so much 


102 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


from a different belief I can not help letting it 
torment me. The doctor says when my reason 
is again in a healthy condition I will be content 
to leave my son in the hands of my Heavenly 
Father; but, oh, if I could only know!" 

“In what unbelief did your son die?” I ques- 
tioned. 

“The doctrines the church teaches,” was 
the reply. 

“Did he believe in a God?” 

“He once wrote me he intended to live a 
better life, ‘God helping him,’ but he kept on 
doing just the same.” 

“Have you told Dr. Hamilton about the 
letter?” 

“No.” 

“Then I would tell him. I don’t know how 
to talk to you, but a good doctor would know. ’ ’ 

She looked pained. “I have intruded my 
sorrow on a stranger, I know, and I beg par- 
don, ’ ’ she said as she moved away. 

I called after her, “I am glad I have met 
you. I hope we shall become further ac- 
quainted.” 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


103 


She bowed acquiescence and her face seemed 
to lighten a little. 

Not long after our interview, I saw my new 
acquaintance in close conversation with Dr. 
Hamilton, his voice was clear and ringing, as 
I distinctly heard him say to her, 4 ‘ God is love, ’ ' 
and that was the balm he was applying to heal 
the hurt of the poor woman’s mind. 


104 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

God is love, are three little monosyllables 
which comprise the first lesson of thousands of 
Sunday school children in Christian lands. It 
is a lesson apt to be forgotten amid the cares 
of this busy world. First written by the pen 
of inspiration; spoken by Dr. Hamilton to 
another and reaching my ear on the waves of 
sound, they comforted me as they must forever 
comfort the human heart. 

It was the message I was pining for, spite of 
my waywardness, spite of my refusal to pray 
for Nathan. Our wise young practitioner 
came to me in the afternoon, and stated that 
Dr. Harvey had been called away to attend a 
relative. Before leaving they had held a con- 
sultation, and it was thought advisable that my 
chair, about which Dr. Jones had told them, 
should be sent to Green Hills. 

“Dr. Harvey,” said he, “has been puzzled 
in diagnosing your case, and we would like to 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


105 


watch the effect upon your nerves of the com- 
munications which you will have with ,” he 

hesitated. 

“With the First Owner of the chair?' ’ I said, 
prompting him. 

“With the First Owner of the chair,” he 
said. “Would you object, Miss Whipple, to 
telling me all about these communications?” 

“No, indeed, doctor; as I am here to be dis- 
illusioned, it is your privilege to know the 
whole story,” and I proceeded to relate my 
experience. 

He seemed interested, but only said, “Shall 
we send for the chair?” 

Having gained my consent, it was arranged 
that he should correspond with Dr. Jones, and 
I with mamma, upon the subject. 

Much to the doctor’s disappointment, the 
word came that the chair was sold the day 
after I left home. Mamma had returned it to 
Nathan, he having paid back half the price, 
and he, Nathan, sold it immediately to an 
unknown party who could not be found. 

For myself, I highly resented the liberty 
that had been taken with my property, and, 


106 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


alone m my room, I gave myself over to a fit 
of uncontrollable temper. 

When the violence of my passion had some- 
what subsided, I bethought me of Marie’s let- 
ter, which was enclosed in mamma’s. She 
had laboriously printed the few lines it con- 
tained, which ran as follows: 

MY DEAREST DEAR DARLING FRANK 
WILLIAMS SCRATCH IS BETTER. 
HE SAYS HE IS MOST IN FITIN ORDER 
MR. BOOTH HAS GONE TO THE JALE 
DO YOU SAY YOUR PRAIRS 

YOUR LOVING MARIE. 

The reading of even Marie’s affectionate 
note did not extinguish the smouldering fire 
of my anger. I felt I had been wronged and 
treated like a child, and I regretted having 
consented to being sent to Green Hills. I 
remembered I would arrive at what is called 
“of age’’ for girls, on my next birthday, and 
be no longer compelled to submit to the control 
of friends. I hastily resolved I would not 
return home until that time. I would hide 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


107 


myself in some distant city, where I could not 
be found. If nothing better should offer, I 
recklessly planned to conceal my identity in 
boy's clothing. 


108 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

My rash determination not to return home 
Strengthened. I laid many plans to escape 
and conceal myself, but doubts as to the 
feasibility of any one of them continually 
tormented me. I was acting against my con- 
science but I stubbornly refused to yield to its 
warnings. I continued to refuse to say my 
prayers, and Mr. Booth’s last request passed 
unheeded, as far as spoken words were con- 
cerned, but if the heart’s desire is prayer, I 
prayed constantly for his weal. The First 
Owner of the chair had said Mr. Booth was the 
rightful heir to Aunt Susan’s property, and 
Aunt Susan did not know it. My mind could 
not rest, and I decided to write her and make 
all the facts known before I attempted to hide 
myself. I did so and received the following 
reply: — 

My Dear Frank : 

I had hoped by this time the hallucination 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


109 


under which you were laboring when you left 
home would have been dispelled, but I see by 
your letter, your trouble is growing worse 
instead of better. I have no doubt when Dr. 
Harvey returns, his experience will suggest 
remedies that will be the means of restoring 
your mind to its normal condition. Meantime, 
try, dear Frank, to use your reason, and do not 
dwell on the foolish statements you imagine 
were made to you by someone who has no 
existence. 

I shall leave my property as I told you I 
would, and I sincerely trust you may be in a 
condition to enjoy your share of it when it shall 
come into your possession. 

You are a good, generous girl, Frank, but 
you must remember what I have told you 
before, that property is a sacred trust, which 
should be preserved for the benefit of one’s 
progeny, but as I have no kin, mine must go 
to the children of my heart. 

Your mamma sends love. Marie is busy 
hemming a handkerchief for William’s birth- 
day. She seems to be really christianizing 
that heathenish boy. I am often actually 


no 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


fatigued listening to her account of the things 
she is doing for others. I fear she will be a 
fanatic when she is grown. 

I hope to receive an early answer to this and 
that you will be able to tell me that Dr. Har- 
vey and your own good sense, have put you in 
condition to warrant your coming home. We 
all long to see you. 

Your affectionate Aunt Susan. 


I never answered Aunt Susan’s letter, but 
resolved to make a desperate effort to escape 
from Green Hills, before Dr. Harvey should 
return. He had now been absent over two 
weeks, and during this time I had made the 
acquaintance of all the patients, and become 
very much interested in a number of them. 

My interest in the mesmerist and the mourn- 
ing mother, who had become almost insepar- 
able companions, was unabating. Dr. Hamil- 
ton, with whom I had become very friendly, 
called all psychical experiences illusions. He 
said, “In the treatment of patients who see 
visions, I have become convinced that all 
such illusions are the result of disorders of the 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


Ill 


brain. If I were to see one myself, I would 
not change my opinion. I would distrust 
myself. 

“If we could have had your chair, I think by 
this time you would have doubted the reality 
of the visits which it seemed to you took place, 
and probably if the chair were to again come 
into your possession, you would have no more 
visits from its First Owner. When Dr. Harvey 
returns we will have another consultation on 
your case, which I do not regard as serious 
enough to warrant a change of the remedies 
which have been prescribed.” 

I had drugged the flowers beneath my win- 
dow with every drop of medicine furnished 
me. 

Being anxious to learn his opinion of the 
young girl’s condition, who had seen a ghost 
in her chair that had so frightened her I ques- 
tioned him, but he waived the subject and I 
could get no satisfaction. 

She had herself told me about it, and judg- 
ing from her description of the chair, I was 
convinced it was the same chair Nathan had 
afterward sold to me. She looked wild when 


112 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


I asked her about the appearance in the chair, 
and I pursued the subject no further. 

Her mind ran on making her escape from the 
sanitarium, and going to her mother. She con- 
fided to me that she had tried it several times 
but had been caught and brought back. 

I wondered if the patients were watched, and 
if I would succeed in getting away. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


113 


CHAPTER XIX. 

My plans to escape were all completed, and 
my duty to mamma, when I considered it in 
all its bearings, impelled me to write her 
before I should attempt to put them into exe- 
cution. After supper, I sat down to my diffi- 
cult task. I wrote and re-wrote my parting 
words, for hours, but nothing I could say satis- 
fied me. A great struggle was going on in my 
mind, but the resolution I had taken was not 
conquered. The unsatisfactory letter which I 
finally sent, read as follows : — 

Green Hills, Aug. — , 18 — . 
My Dear Mamma: 

I have determined not to return home for at 
least a year. I am going to leave the sanita- 
rium surreptitiously and hide myself, so, it will 
be impossible to find me. I intend to go 
abroad, and when my friends inquire after me 
you can say I have gone abroad to study music. 


114 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


You will know how to manage it, if you do not 
wish to tell all the facts, which you might 
think disgraceful. I will not disgrace you and 1 
will return y if I live. 

A year will soon pass and then we shall all 
be together again. I think I am acting for the 
best, under the circumstances. Tell Aunt 
Susan not to blame me. Of course, Marie and 
Mr. Booth need not know. 

I leave it to your judgment to make matters 
smooth for my return. I shall mail this letter 
when I start, so that no clue to my where- 
abouts may be discovered. My assumed name 
will protect you from the publicity which might 
otherwise follow my act. 

My dear mamma, forgive me. 

Frank. 


Scarcely had my letter been sealed and 
addressed, when the cry of “fire” attracted my 
attention. I hastily thrust the letter into my 
bosom, and rushed into the corridor. The 
hour was late and all the inmates had retired. 
The place was black with smoke and I knew 
the building was on fire. My first impulse was 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


115 


to embrace this favorable opportunity to slip 
away unnoticed, and I returned hastily to my 
room, secured my hat and purse, intending to 
go to the depot, a half mile away, and catch 
the midnight train. But loud cries from the 
story above attracted my attention, and I went 
to the rescue of those who were hemmed in by 
smoke and flame. Having assisted in conduct- 
ing the last trembling woman down the escapes, 
I found my way to the ground by the same 
means. Unnoticed in the confusion, I made my 
way to the depot just in time to drop my letter 
in the mail box and jump aboard the train as 
it was moving out. 

When I looked back at the place from which 
I was fleeing, it was enveloped in smoke and 
flames, and from the cupola shot up fiery 
tongues that licked the clouds. My farewell 
was a shudder ! 

I traveled until I reached New York City. 
I went immediately to a barber’s, where I 
ordered my hair cut like a boy’s. This being 
done, to my satisfaction, I proceeded to a cloth- 
ing store, where I selected a boy’s suit 
8 


116 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


throughout, which, giving my own measure, 
proved a perfect fit. 

Having waited in my hotel until the dusk of 
evening, I arrayed 'myself in my new outfit, and 
walked boldly out, without attracting special 
attention. I now felt free. I had visited the 
city before and knew where to find a respect- 
able location. I walked a long time for the 
pleasure it gave me. The lightness of my 
apparel was a source of strength. With no 
skirts to weigh me down I felt light enough 
to fly. I looked with pity on every woman I 
met switching her skirts around her ankles. 
Does a man’s dress engender in him a sense of 
superiority over the less favored petticoat- 
weakened part of humanity? 

With no matured plans I was looking for 
a chance to visit England. I had a snug little 
sum of money, which I had saved up, in my 
pocket. 

Buoyed up by hope, which ever reigns in the 
heart of youth, I made my first effort to add to 
my little store. But the dollar which I ex- 
pended advertising as a music teacher, might 
as well have been thrown into the street, for 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


117 


nothing came of it. Two persons answered it 
by sending for me, but my youthful appear- 
ance was against me, and I could give no 
references. 

I then answered an advertisement for an 
agent to sell an article which “would sell 
itself, ’ ’ and the canvasser would make several 
hundred dollars a month. I started out on 
this business, my feet shod with the gospel of 
money-making. The article did not sell itself, 
neither could I, by reciting a printed rigma- 
role, which had been furnished me, and adding 
my own eloquent appeal, sell it. For days I 
tramped from house to house without earning 
enough to pay my board. I learned for the 
first time some of the temptations which be- 
set the mariner sailing the business sea. 


118 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER XX. 

Failing in my first attempt at canvassing, I 
next became a book agent. In this, having 
hit upon a popular work, I was more success- 
ful ; but my fullest expectations were not real- 
ized. Money did not come in fast enough to 
make it possible for me to carry out my eager 
desire to go abroad, but I was bound to hold 
to my engagement until more remunerative 
employment was found. 

Trudging along a by-street one day, foot- 
sore and weary, with my sample copy in my 
hand, I met a strange looking woman who, as 
she peered critically under my broad brimmed 
hat, said, “Are you selling a book, boy?” 

“Yes, madam, would you like to buy?” was 
my quick response. 

“Here is my card,” said she, “come to my 
apartments in half an hour and I will [talk 
with you about it.” 

I knew the place to which the address on the 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


119 


card directed me, and at the appointed time, I 
stood before the door on which was printed in 
gilt letters “Conservatory] of Music.” The 
building was large and I was shown into the 
woman’s apartments, which were in one of the 
wings. There, in an ante-room, I awaited her 
pleasure. 

On the table lay a newspaper, which I took 
up. Glancing casually over its columns, my 
eyes fell upon the following heading: “Green 
Hills Sanitarium Burned to the Ground. All 
the Patients Except One Rescued.” Then 
followed a graphic account of the conflagration 
at Green Hills. The name of Miss Whipple fig- 
ured largely as an example of heroism in assist- 
ing the patients down the fire-escapes. It was 
supposed she had returned to her room, per- 
haps to secure valuables, and had been over- 
taken by the flames, as she could not be found. 
Great regret was expressed at her tragic death, 
for she had endeared herself to the officers and 
patients during her short stay in the institution. 

I was so absorbed in reading the article, I 
did not at once notice the quiet entrance of my 
would-be patron. She, however, called my 


120 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


attention to herself by saying, “Boy, you were 
at Green Hills at the time of the fire!” 

I was paralyzed with astonishment, and 
looked at her in dismay. She repeated her 
words in an interrogatory tone. 

I still stared into her black compelling eyes. 
She was a weird looking creature. The features 
of her wrinkled face were prominent and irreg- 
ular. When she was speaking her large mouth 
twisted and jerked, although her expression 
was not bad, and reminded me of a mesmerist 
I had met at Green Hills. She had brought 
something uncanny into the atmosphere of the 
place, and instead of answering, I uncon- 
sciously seized my hat and book to depart. The 
woman knew I could not leave, for the spring 
lock in the door held me prisoner when I 
attempted to open it. 

I turned sharply upon her, “I do not intend 
to answer you, madam,” I said, “and you will 
oblige me by letting me out.” 

As I spoke, I noticed, for the first time, the 
sign “Clairvoyant” on the door of the inner 
room. 

“If you insist upon it,” she replied, “I will 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


121 


let you out, but you will go against your best 
interests. I have been searching for you ever 
since the fire at Green Hills, for that night I 
saw all you did as plainly as if I had been 
present. I saw you leave, but lost track of 
you after you started for New York. I thought 
when I met you to-day I might be of assistance 
to you, for a brave gi — boy like yourself, 
should not lack friends ; I want to buy your 
book.” 

I dropped into my chair again and handed 
her my sample copy. 

“Oh, never mind!” said she, returning it 
without opening it, “I’ll take a book, anyway; 
but do you intend to continue in this business?” 

“Yes, madam, until I find something better. ” 

“Would you mind telling me what you would 
like most to do?” 

“To go abroad and study music.” 

She smiled, and instead of relaxing her 
mouth, drew it into closer puckers. 

“Do you know who I am?” I said, beginning 
to feel more at ease. 

“I do. And I know at Green Hills you 
passed as Miss Whipple. ’ ’ 


122 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


“Well, madam/’ said I, “if, as you say, you 
would like to be of assistance to me, you can 
serve me best by keeping the secret of my 
being alive to yourself.” 

“I will comply with your request, although 
detectives might offer me a large reward to 
deliver you into their hands, ’ ’ she said, sig- 
nificantly. 

“Do detectives consult you?” I asked, glanc- 
ing at the sign on the door. 

“Frequently,” she replied, “they are my 
best customers.” 

“You remind me of a mesmerist whom I 
met at Green Hills,” I said. 

“Yes, a relative of mine was there. I 
advised her to go. Psychic power is often a 
premature development, and there is not a cor- 
responding poise in the individual to enable 
him to use Jthe power wisely. Strong desire, 
rightly directed, will compel its own fulfill- 
ment. 

“Now, if you want to go abroad, say to your- 
self, ‘I am going abroad,’ and let not a doubt 
intrude. Look only for the fulfillment of that 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


123 


wish ; require it, expect it, and you will have 
it.” 

‘‘I don’t understand how I can require any- 
thing like that to come to pass, ’ ’ I said. 

“Nor do I,” said she, “all I know is it can 
be done. There are forces I can compel to do 
my bidding. You shall go to Europe as you 
desire, how or when I can not say, without a 
sitting, but go you shall, if you will do as I 
have directed.” 

“I will go to Europe," I said, with impressive 
emphasis, and a hopeful smile, as I arose and 
turned toward the door. 

“If you have time before you leave, call 
upon me again,” said the woman as she let me 
out. 

I thanked her for her kindly interest, told 
her I would deliver her book, and went away 
feeling quite sure that I would go to Europe. 
Was I hypnotized? 


124 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER XXL 

“A runaway,” was the cry, and sure enough, 
there it came, dashing toward us. A scared 
little white face looked out of the carriage win- 
dow, as the madly plunging horses veered 
toward the lamp post, by which I stood. One 
trailing line caught in some unaccountable 
way, and wound around the post, and before it 
snapped, as it did in an instant, I had thrown 
myself forward, and caught desperately at the 
bits. Here I swung for nearly a block, when 
my weight, dragging upon their tender, bitted 
mouths checked them. 

I was stunned and confused when I let go 
my hold and stood on my feet, scarcely realiz- 
ing what I had done. The coachman had been 
thrown from his box and instantly killed. 

By the rash impulse of a moment I was a 
hero in the eyes of the occupants of the car- 
riage, and the crowd that gathered around it. 

Alighting in breathless haste the owner of 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


125 


the carriage inquired for “the boy who stopped 
the horses. ” 

A boy who had been the first to congratulate 
me called out, “He’s here, sir, pretty well 
knocked out, I reckon!” 

Perceiving I had not yet recovered myself 
sufficiently to appear to advantage in the inter- 
view which the gentleman sought, the boy took 
it upon himself to be spokesman for me, and 
all he knew was promptly told. 

The affair resulted in my becoming the pro- 
tege of the person who was pleased to call me 
a courageous boy. 

Next day I was installed as music teacher to 
his young daughter, who was driving with him 
at the time of the accident. 

The family, who had thus strangely become 
my fast and grateful friends, consisted of Judge 
Cecil Bennett, his invalid wife, and daughter 
Bernice, a frolicsome creature who had lately 
entered her teens. Judge Bennett was a man 
of commanding figure and imposing presence. 
A massive brow overhung his deep-set gray 
eyes, and his hair was black and glossy. I 
thought him the handsomest man I had ever 


126 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


seen, with the exception of Mr. Booth, who 
was of the blond type, tall, straight, and 
majestic. The two men were as different in 
character as they were in personal appearance. 

Mrs. Bennett was wheeled into the room in 
her invalid chair, and presided at the first 
music lesson I gave Bernice. I was favor- 
ably impressed with her gentle greeting, and 
deep solicitude for her daughter’s improve- 
ment. She questioned so closely as to my 
antecedents that I found it difficult to answer 
her and conceal my identity, but I managed 
to gain her confidence, and she seemed satis- 
fied with my first effort to instruct her idolized 
child. 

Miss Bernice, or Bernie, as her parents 
called her, and by which name I was also 
permitted to address her, appeared a shy little 
thing at first, but I soon discovered was up to 
all sorts of mischief. Luckily she took a de- 
cided fancy to her new music teacher. 

“I didn’t know a boy could make me learn 
so fast,” said she; “Papa and mamma are 
delighted ; they think of asking you to go to 
Europe with us. You know we sail next 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


127 


month for mamma’s health. Would you like 
to go?” 

“Indeed, I would,” was my eager reply. 

“Papa says since you saved our lives, you 
belong to us, especially as your papa is dead.” 

In the course of a few days, I received a cor- 
dial invitation from Judge Bennett to accom- 
pany himself and family on their European 
tour. I then unfolded to him my desire to 
further continue my studies in music abroad, 
which met with his entire approval. 

“I had thought,” said he, “of offering you 
a position in my office to study law, but if you 
prefer music, it will at least do you no harm. 
You are young and there would still be time 
for you to engage in the study of law, when 
we return. We propose to be gone a year. I 
intend to provide for you as I would for a son. 
You shall have every advantage you desire, 
for I am satisfied you are worthy.” 

When he pronounced the last clause of his 
sentence, I began to despise myself. Any- 
thing but worthy, was my internal comment. 
I was tempted, for the moment, to confess my 
false attitude, and take whatever consequences 


128 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


might come but, alas, while I hesitated, I lost 
my opportunity. The Judge was called away, 
and my courage failed when I again gave the 
matter serious consideration. 

Bearing in mind that I had promised to 
deliver the book ordered by Madam Laureola, 
I set out, during a leisure hour, to fulfill my 
engagement. Ascending the steps to the 
Conservatory of Music, the door opened and 
out stepped Judge Bennett. Our surprise was 
mutual. I thought he exhibited signs of em- 
barrassment, when he said in a tone of inquiry, 
“I didn’t think of seeing you here.” 

“I came to deliver a book, 1 promised to 
Madam Laureola,” I promptly explained. 

“Oh,” said he, evidently relieved, ‘‘that’s 
right; keep your promises. I also had busi- 
ness here, professionally, of course, that must 
be attended to before we leave. ’ ’ 

My suspicions were aroused. I wondered 
whether the Judge had business with the con- 
servatory people, or with the madam. I made 
inquiries, but the madam was on her guard. 
She greeted me with exceeding cordiality, and 
did not seem in the least surprised when I told 


% 


THE WHITE FLAME. 129 

her of my expected departure. When I asked 
her if she knew Judge Bennett, she replied, 
“I know him by sight,” and immediately 
changed the subject. 

On account of an imperative engagement 
which she had, my call was brief. She said in 
parting, “Fire hath consumed a house, and 
death hath laid one low, in accomplishing your 
destiny.” 

I thought of the fire at Green Hills, of the 
dead coachman, and wondered what next. 

When she paid me for the book, she said, 
“May this money increase in the hand that 
holds it, a thousand fold.” 

I gave it to a blind beggar, led by a little 
girl, at the door; the puckering smile on 
Madam’s face, which I spied at the window, 
signified her approval of my act. 


130 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

Out on the broad Atlantic, the ship’s prow 
eastward set, we sailed. Our party numbered 
five. Judge and Mrs. Bennett, Bernie, the 
nurse, and myself. 

Kathrina, the nurse, was a young German 
woman, who sought her fortune in New York 
several years before, and on first landing had 
found employment as Bernie’s nurse. But 
now, Bernie’s mother’s condition was such as 
to require a large share of her services, which 
she gave with unselfish devotion. Her parents 
were the tenants of a German baron, and 
Judge Bennett had promised to see that she 
was safely landed at her old home. 

Our plan was for a short stay in England, 
and thence to Germany, where the invalid was 
to experiment with the waters of the hot 
springs of Baden-Baden, and I was to pursue 
my studies in music. 

In the course of a few weeks, these plans 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


131 


had all been carried out, but the condition of 
the invalid continued serious. At first she 
gained in strength and spirits, but as time wore 
on, it became evident she was really no better. 
She was determined to live, and would 
declare herself quite well every morning, no 
matter what had been the agonies of the night. 
She would not look in the mirror because, she 
said, it lied to her; she knew the thin pale 
face reflected there, was not hers. She in- 
sisted her faith would not permit her to suffer 
pain. Sometimes it seemed as if her mind 
were really controlling and curing her disease. 
Possibly her life may have been prolonged by 
the psychic treatment she gave herself. She 
made a brave struggle to conquer disease and 
death. 

Hers was a most lovely character, but one 
it was not possible for her husband to under- 
stand. Theirs was an attempted wedlock be- 
tween transcendentalism and utilitarianism. 

“Here comes the Judge; make him wel- 
come, Frank,” the good woman would say, 
when I chanced to be with her, and she heard 


132 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


her husband’s approaching footsteps, “lam 
too weak to talk to him ; he tires me.” 

It was evident the society of the sick wife 
was also often irksome to her husband, for she 
rarely spoke that she did not make an allusion 
to a doctrine vague and unsatisfactory to a 
man of his views. What time he spent in her 
presence was, therefore, whiled away, so far 
as possible, in listening to Bernie’s music or 
her prattle, which was agreeable alike to both 
parties, and in an occasional game of chess 
which he was pleased to teach me to play. 

Bernie, on one occasion, grew restive under 
the silence our game imposed upon her, and 
insisted on being taught the game, so she 
could play with her papa when “Brother 
Frank,” as she now called me, was practicing 
his music. 

“Girls don’t make good chess players,” said 
her papa; “now Frank will make a profes- 
sional if he keeps on as he has begun. ” 

“I believe I can learn every lesson a boy 
can,” said Bernie, shaking her wise little head, 
with decided emphasis, “Frank shall teach me 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


133 


to play chess, and I will win my first game 
with you, papa; see if I don’t!” 

“That's the way to put a girl on her met- 
tle,” said the Judge pleasantly, “intimate to 
her that a boy is in any respect her superior, 
and she will compass sea and land, to prove 
the inuendo false.” 

Pleasure grounds, gardens, and promenades, 
where crowds of people from various parts of 
the world might be seen, possessed a never- 
failing charm for Bernie. But the days 
whitest for me were those in which I visited a 
castle, or jaunted amid the beautiful scenery 
of the valley of the black forest. My antiqua- 
rian proclivities led me, more than once, to 
visit the parish church, which, it will be re- 
membered, dates from the fifteenth century, 
and contains the tombs of several of the mar- 
graves. 

Mrs. Bennett never wearied of the descrip- 
tions I gave her of the places I visited, and 
always said, “I shall soon be strong enough 
to go and see for myself.” 

Whenever I was alone with her, which was 
seldom, I felt impelled to give her my confi- 


134 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


dence, for the thought that I was masquerad- 
ing as a boy, in the presence of a dying woman, 
made me very uncomfortable, But fear of the 
consequences had kept me silent, until on one 
occasion she said, “Do you never write to 
your mother, Frank?" 

“You know, I told you, Mrs. Bennett, I left 
home clandestinely, and I do not care to 
write." 

“I can not believe you will continue to hold 
your resentment," said the good woman, “but 
boys are so different from girls. They will 
leave home and travel about the country, when 
girls would not dare to." 

“They might dare if they could wear boys’ 
clothes," I replied, significantly. 

“What do you mean?" said she, with a 
startled look. 

“I’ll tell you what I mean, Mrs. Bennett, 
and trust to your honor to keep my secret. 
Considering the relation in which I stand to 
your family, and the many favors I have re- 
ceived from you, I think a full confession, 
as to who 1 really am, is due you," and I 
forthwith freed my mind of its burden, begin- 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


135 


ning with my change of garments in New 
York. 

In conclusion I said, “If you think me un- 
worthy of the kindness you have bestowed, and 
would prefer to drop me altogether from you* 
family, I shall not complain.” 

“Oh, you poor wayward child, ” she replied, 
“you little know my heart. I will do by you 
as I would have another do by Bernie were 
she situated as you are.” 

I burst into a violent fit of weeping, the first 
tears I had shed since I left home. Mrs. 
Bennett reached out to me as I sat close by 
the couch on which she was reclining, and 
drew my head down upon the pillow, beside 
hers, and kissed me. 

The Judge at that moment appeared in the 
doorway, accompanied by Bernie. The tableau 
presented to the intruders was evidently a 
great surprise! The Judge transfixed with 
astonishment stood looking from one to the 
other, as if to assure himself there was no 
mistake. 

I drew myself up in embarrassment, my face 
suffused with blushes. 


136 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


Mrs. Bennett addressed Bernie. 
for your lesson, my dear.” she 
Frank is waiting for you. ” 

Her hint was not lost upon me. 
arose and went out with Bernie. 


“It is time 
said, “and 

I promptly 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


137 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

Several days after I had another private in- 
terview with Mrs. Bennett. She immediately 
urged me to write to mamma. 

“1 know your mamma is consumed with 
anxiety,” she said, “and it is cruel to permit 
her to suffer. Promise me, dear Frank, you 
will write to-day.” 

“What shall I tell her?” I said, in a relent- 
ing tone. 

“Tell her you are safe with friends, well, 
improving in your music, and that you expect 
to return to her in the near future. When 
we reach New York, you must attire yourself 
properly, and go to those who love you, even 
if you should afterward return to us.” 

“You did not tell the Judge, I hope, for I 
should feel awkward to have him see me, if 
he knew, ’ ’ I said interrogatively. 

“No, no; of course I did not tell the Judge, ” 
she replied; “he is a peculiar man. I never 


138 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


could quite understand him, but I know he is 
very jealous of my exhibiting affection for 
anyone beside himself. I imagine he is even 
a little jealous of my love for Bernie. He 
can not help it; it is his nature. I tell you 
this to put you on your guard, for he is devoted 
to your interests. I told him you had broken 
down, the other day, in talking to me of your 
mother, and I kissed you to comfort you." 

“He is never to know, then, that he has been 
imposed on by a girl?" 

“No, not until we get back to New York, at 
least. No man should be tempted beyond 
what, he is able to bear. Your dress is your 
protection. You carry it so well, none would 
suspect you. I shall guard your secret." 

She returned again to the subject of my cor- 
respondence with mamma, and I promised to 
write without delay. 

This fulfilled, my letter was written that 
afternoon. 

Judge Bennett returned the same evening, 
in good spirits, from a trip to the home of 
Kathrina. He found her enjoying her visit 
but very willing to return to New York with 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


139 


us, and she had promised soon to resume her 
duties as waiting maid to her beloved mistress, 
from whom she had been separated since our 
arrival in her native land. 

“When she comes,” he said, turning to his 
wife, “I shall feel greatly relieved, for Kath- 
rina is an exceptionally good nurse. She 
never loses sight of her charge. ’ ’ 

I fancied the qualification which the Judge 
named, particularly commended the nurse to 
him, as he seemed uneasy when his wife was 
left alone with anyone beside himself or the 
nurse. 

I had noticed, before his wife confided in 
me, how constantly he hovered near, when 
Bernie or myself, or any of her small circle of 
admiring friends were in the room, and what 
a relief it seemed to be to him when she was 
alone with her nurse; but I attributed his 
conduct to his solicitude for her health, as it 
was evident conversation fatigued her. I 
thought it prudent to avoid being alone with 
her after I had recognized these conditions, 
although I longed to be with her, more than 
ever before. 


140 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


The Judge actually seemed to plan recreation 
for Bernie and myself, which would engage our 
attention, to the exclusion of visits to his wife’s 
room, until the day that Kathrina appeared 
on the scene. 

I knew when I saw her, I should never have 
another opportunity of private conversation 
with Mrs. Bennett, while we remained abroad, 
but I little thought how soon she would be 
removed from our sight. One short month 
and it all was over. 

It was Sunday. The day was one of the 
brightest. Mrs. Bennett had risen early, 
declaring herself quite well, but because she 
was not strong enough to attend church, she 
requested that a prayer service be held in her* 
room, for the benefit of herself and family. 

I was not anxious to avail myself of the 
opportunity to be present at religious worship, 
for having ceased to pray and attend church, 
I had lost relish for the things which once gave 
me great satisfaction. Indeed if the Judge had 
not intimated that, when the rector should 
join him, my presence was desired, I would 
have remained away. I was there in advance 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


141 


of the rest, and while Kathrina performed 
some necessary offices, her mistress said: 

“I thought I would have prayers, at least once 
while we are here, for even formal prayer is 
a help to the soul. But I hope to-day we shall 
all pray from our hearts. * ’ 

“Do you think,” said I, “the Lord will hear 
our prayers, if we don’t do what he tells us to?” 

“Yes. He has told us to pray, and if we 
pray, we have done one thing he has told us 
to do. Because we have failed, in some 
respects, to keep his commandments is the 
very reason why we should pray. ’ ’ 

“I have not prayed for a long time,” I said, 
“because I could not forgive my enemies.” 

“You are very wrong, Frank; you should 
pray for a forgiving heart, and you will have 
it. You will be able to forgive as you would 
be forgiven. God loves you, and love begets 
love. The deeper God’s love for you sinks 
into your heart, the more you will love him, 
and in loving him, you will learn to love your 
neighbor as yourself, even though he may 
have wronged you. Open your heart to God’s 
love.” 


142 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


She paused suddenly and dropped her head 
against the back of her reclining chair. 

Judge Bennett and Bernie were coming in 
and heard her last words, and saw her fall 
back. 

The Judge caught her in his arms and laid 
her upon the couch. 

“She is dying,” cried Kathrina. 

She sprang up with sudden vigor. “No, 
no,” said she, “I am not dying. I shall not 
die. See me walk.” And she arose and 
walked across the room, and back to her couch, 
upon which she fell, nevermore to rise by her 
own will. Her will could not conquer death ! 

Restoratives were applied with the vain 
hope of resuscitating the form from which the 
spirit had fled, and had it been possible for 
that spirit to again take possession of its tene- 
ment of clay, the wailing from Bernie, “O, 
mamma, mamma, mamma,” would have 
brought her back. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


143 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

The individuality of the Judge was strik- 
ingly manifested in his bearing after the loss 
of his wife. He avoided speaking of her, and 
seemed to resent, as an impertinence, any 
expression of interest in her from her sorrow- 
ing friends. He even checked Bernie’s exhi- 
bition of grief. 

“Bernie,” he said, “your mamma belonged 
to your papa, and I am not pleased with your 
crying so much.” 

Kathrina was forbidden to speak of her mis- 
tress to him. As I bore my loss silently, and 
wept bitter tears only in solitude, his attitude 
toward me was plainly one of approval. 

Several times when preparations were being 
made for our homeward trip, he consulted 
with me, and I soon became aware that my 
presence was agreeable to him, and in a meas- 
ure, necessary. He seemed to want me all to 
himself. Did he see me in conversation with 


144 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


another, he would call me away, and make 
some excuse for keeping me with him. 

I remembered that his wife had ^intimated 
that he was of a jealous nature, and ^very 
exacting of his friends. As his society was 
exceedingly agreeable to me, it was no hard- 
ship for me to give him much of my time. He 
often laid his hand familiarly on my shoulder 
when speaking to me, and his touch always 
thrilled me. The death of his wife had sud- 
denly established an invisible link between us. 

Kathrina, quick to observe, conceived the 
idea that I was taking the place which should, 
of right, belong to Bernie, in the affections of 
her father. I chanced to overhear her cau- 
tioning the child to “watch out for that boy” 
or he would get all her papa’s love and money 
away from her. 

But Bernie answered, “Papa and I love 
Frank because he saved our lives, and mamma 
loved him, too. She kissed him once; papa 
and I saw her ; and the last words she said to 
him were ‘Open your heart to God’s love. * Oh, 
no, Frank is not going to steal papa’s love 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


145 


away from me. You can’t make me believe 
that!” 

“It looks like it, anyway,” said Kathrina, 
with feminine persistence. 

I now fully appreciated the advantage which 
masculine attire gave me, and the wisdom of 
the departed friend, who counseled me to wear 
it until our arrival in New York; though prob- 
ably she never had thought that I would be de- 
prived of her protection. Possibly I was not, 
for who shall say her spirit did not wing its 
way with us as we crossed the great ocean. 

I dreaded the voyage to end. I dreaded to 
return to my home, which I knew I must do, on 
my arrival. Judge Bennett, who was in utter 
ignorance of all that concerned me, had, on 
one occasion, when we were on deck together, 
spoken of my studying law in his office, in a 
manner that left no doubt in my mind as to his 
plans for me. A strange contentment possessed 
me when in his presence, I would gladly 
have accepted any position that would have 
enabled me to remain near him, had I not 
already determined to return home. The 
Judge certainly would despise me if he knew 


146 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


of my deception, and I planned to visit mam- 
ma, and never see him again. 

I believed the separation would break my 
heart, but to be disgraced in his sight would 
be even worse. It would kill me! In the 
meantime, I drank deeply of the joy of being 
near him. He was always on deck, which he 
paced with the ease of an old sailor. Some- 
times I would walk with him, willing, for the 
pleasure of his society, to appear to disadvan- 
tage, as I did beside his imposing figure. 

But the morning we arrived at our destina- 
tion he was not out at his usual time, and my 
solicitude led me to listen at his door and I heard 
him talking to himself. The only words which 
I could distinctly hear were “strange boy.” I 
wondered if he meant me. 

As the vessel sailed into harbor, Bernie 
and Kathrina were on deck eagerly viewing 
the scenes of their own loved country, their 
eyes filled with tears that Mrs. Bennett was 
not with them, when I joined them. 

“I wonder why papa doesn’t come out,” said 
Bernie; “I will go for him.” 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


147 


Landing of the passengers had begun, when 
Bernie and the Judge appeared. We were true 
mourners who entering the carriage were 
driven to the lonely home, from which we had 
gone out so hopefully a year before. 

Old servants were there to greet us, sobbing 
and weeping for their loss. 

Poor Bernie gave way to a flood of tears and 
Kathrina wept with her. I sought the room I 
had occupied before we left, and there vented 
my overcharged feelings. 

In less than a week the matters of the house- 
hold had been adjusted to the new situation, 
and the body of the mother so loved by all was 
resting in Greenwood cemetery. 

Now was the time for me to carry out my 
plans. Judge Bennett seemed surprised when 
I told him I would like to visit mamma 
before I commenced in his office, and he reluc- 
tantly gave his consent. 

“I hope you will not stay long, Frank,” he 
said, ‘‘for I shall miss you. I need not tell you 
how necessary you have become to me. If 
you were a woman, I would make you my 
wife.” 


10 


148 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


I recoiled from the man who could deliber- 
ately speak of his marriage with another so soon 
after the death of his wife. He met my look 
of indignation with perfect composure. He 
did not understand what it meant. His calm, 
gray eyes were fixed on mine in solemn ear- 
nestness, and suddenly I remembered he had 
spoken the words I resented, to a boy whom 
he loved, without a thought of marriage in his 
mind. 

My face flushed with painful embarrassment. 

He stepped forward and laid his hand upon 
my shoulder. “Frank,” said he, “this is the 
first time you ever misunderstood me.” 

“I understand you now,” I said, and offered 
him my hand, for I thought it was our farewell 
interview. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


149 


CHAPTER XXV. 

Hastily crowding a few of my belongings 
into a small satchel, and, without bidding adieu 
to any of the other members of the family, I 
went directly 'to Madam Laureola’s. 

To her I recounted all that had occurred since 
I parted from her, and asked her protection 
and assistance in making a change in my attire, 
and in leaving the city for my home. She did 
not seem surprised, but questioned me closely, 
after I had finished my narration. 

“You may depend on my help,” she said, 
“but would it not be better for you to continue 
in your present clothes, and study law in Judge 
Bennett’s office, than to go home and waddle 
around in long dresses, and get girl’s prices for 
your music lessons? In one case you will be 
pretty sure of rising in the world ; in the other 
you must be hampered by woman’s disabili- 
ties. ” 


150 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


“I can study law if I choose in skirts,’* I 
replied. “Other women have done it.’’ 

“Yes, others have done it, but they have had 
to row against the tide, and their crafts have 
been buffeted by the waves of public opinion, 
and as you are well started out in the mascu- 
line boat, why not stay where you may easily 
sail into harbor with colors flying?’’ 

“I wish I might,” I said, “for I shall for- 
ever, after this, abominate the tiresome swing 
of a skirt. I have grown strong and vigorous 
in this dress, and I like it ; if I were to set the 
fashion for woman I would give her a short 
skirt that would not burden her.” 

“I must do my duty to mamma,” I said, 
returning to the subject from which we had 
digressed; “it is not a question of choice with 
me. I promised I would return in a year and 
she will expect me. I would like to get off 
this afternoon, if my costume can be ar- 
ranged. ’ ’ 

“As to that,” said the madam, “I will lend 
you any one of my disguises you may select ; 
you can go then and choose for yourself. ’ ’ 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


151 


I chose a plain black dress, and in this, with 
my face veiled, I went out on my shopping 
tour. 

I selected a dove-colored traveling costume, 
with hat and gloves to match. These with the 
other accessories of woman’s wardrobe were 
sent to Madam Laureola’s address, and arrived 
in time for me to array myself in them before 
leaving for the train. 

So long unaccustomed to the restraint and 
burden of female attire I felt awkward at first 
and the madam remarked, with an additional 
pucker to her puckery mouth, that I appeared 
like a man in disguise. 

She said in parting with me at the door, “I 
shall not lose sight of you, for I am interested 
in your destiny.” 

The carriage was waiting for me, and I hast- 
ily descended the stone steps, at the bottom of 
which I came face to face with Judge Bennett. 

He turned to look after me as I quickly 
passed him. 

“Frank,” he called, in a husky voice. 

I made no answer, but hastened forward to 


152 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


the carriage. I felt a hand on my shoulder. 
His eyes blazed fire into my face. 

“Frank,” he said again. 

His breath came in quick gasps. I was 
frightened. The coachman had deposited my 
satchel in the carriage and stood by the open 
door, waiting for me. 

“I must go,” I said in a trembling voice and 
I sprang into the carriage. Judge Bennett 
instantly followed me. 

“Frank,” said he, “I shall not lose sight of 
you until I know the meaning of this.” 

“Drive to the depot,” I said, to the waiting 
coachman. 

“Why are you stealing away from your 
friends in woman’s costume?” was my com- 
panion’s first question, when we were alone. 
“I thought you had gone to your mother.” 

His last remark reassured me. 

“Judge,” said I, “I am just what your wife 
called me when I confessed to her, a poor way- 
ward girl. I appeal to your honor not to make 
this interview so long that I shall miss the 
train which I have arranged to take for my 
home.” 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


153 


The Judge sat staring at me. He said not a 
word. His eyes did not lose their fire. They 
seemed to kindle and re-kindle under his intel- 
lectual brow. He sat in silence — not a word 
had he uttered — when the carriage drew up at 
the station. 

I was confused and my heart sank as he 
assisted me to alight, but the pressure of his 
hand made mine tingle to the finger tips, and 
I soon recovered myself, and walked silently 
by his side. 

We had barely time to catch the train, and 
as he put me aboard, he said, so only I could 
hear, “I shall not lose you, Frank; I love you!" 

I watched him walk away from the car win- 
dow, and had I found the strength, I believe I 
would have called him back, for I suddenly 
felt I could not part with him. I could neither 
speak nor move. I leaned my head against the 
back of the seat, closed my eyes and was 
in a semi-conscious state until roused by the 
conductor. 

I handed him my ticket mechanically. As 
he returned it, he looked at me inquiringly. 


154 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


“Are you ill?” said he; “Shall I open the win- 
dow?” 

I shook my head and he passed on. I caught 
a glimpse of my face in the mirror at the end 
of the car. It was deathly pale. 

By degrees I recovered myself sufficiently to 
gain control of my thoughts. I called in the 
rioters and tried to give them sober places, but 
there was one which, in spite of my efforts, 
dominated all the rest. It echoed and re-echoed 
through my brain. 

The words, “I love you,” rang in my ears 
and the passion expressed in those eyes of 
gray had burned into my heart. Struggle as 
I might, I could not banish the picture of the 
Judge, nor forget his low-murmured parting 
declaration. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


155 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

Gabriel Booth was pacing the veranda with 
hands crossed behind him, and head bent for- 
ward, as though in deep meditation, and he did 
not observe me until the sound of my feet on 
the steps attracted his attention. 

Peace came to my troubled soul. I felt in a 
restful atmosphere. As he bent over me, the 
morning sun glinting his golden hair, and a 
smile of genuine pleasure illuminating his 
saintly features, he said, “The dove has re- 
turned to the ark.” 

“Yes, like Noah’s dove, she found no rest 
for the sole of her foot, and so flies back to the 
ark,” and I stepped lightly into the hall. 

‘ Mamma waiting there clasped me in her 
arms. 

“6, Frank,” she said, “I am so glad you are 
here at last!” 

I dashed away the tears that would come. 
“Where’s Marie?” said I. 


156 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


“Marie has met with an accident,” mamma 
replied, in a subdued tone. “You must be 
prepared to see a great change in her. She 
dreamed last night you were coming to-day.” 

A weak voice which I recognized as Marie's, 
reached me from mamma’s room. “Has 
Frank come, ’ ’ it said. 

“Yes, I am here, Marie, and I’m coming to 
you at once,” I called out. 

I was shocked beyond measure when I saw 
the dear child. She lay upon the cushions in 
my father’s invalid chair as helpless, almost, 
as an infant. 

“You didn’t know I was hurt, did you, 
Frank?” said she, with a bright smile, of which 
it seemed nothing could rob her. 

“No, I surely did not know of this,” I an- 
swered, tenderly embracing her; “how were 
you hurt?” 

“I fell from the carriage the day Aunt Susan 
was buried, and injured my spine. Mamma 
said she would write you about it, but she 
wasn’t sure you would get the letter.” 

“You were so far away, you know,” mamma 
interposed, with a meaning gesture. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


157 


I thought it unwise to pursue the subject, for 
it was evident mamma had covered my 
escapade with such harmless representations as 
suited her purpose. I was surprised when 
Marie alluded to Aunt Susan’s death, but 
restrained my impatience for details until I 
could see mamma alone. This occurred when 
poor Marie found relief in sleep from the pain 
which she suffered most of the time. 

“Aunt Susan’s death was very unexpected,” 
said mamma. “The summons came the day 
she made her will, which, you know, she talked 
about so much and neglected so long. It prob- 
ably would not have been made at all, had not 
Mr. Booth dwelt in his sermon, the Sunday 
before, on the uncertainty of life and the 
necessity of living in a state of preparation for 
the change. 

“She told me when we came from church, 
she would make her will the next day, and she 
did as she said she would. She divided her 
property equally between you, Marie, and 
myself, with the exception of her jewels, which 
she gave you. 

“The will was witnessed at five o’clock in 


158 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


the afternoon, and she was in her usual health, 
but at night I went to her room and sat on the 
side of her bed, where she was lying, and was 
leaning over whispering to her about you, when 
she said, ‘Yes, dear,’ and gasped and was 
gone. The doctor said it was heart disease. ” 

I believed the property Aunt Susan had left 
should have gone to Mr. Booth, but I said 
nothing. We exchanged confidences concern- 
ing much that had occurred during our separa- 
tion, and arranged between us how best to 
satisfy our friends who would be likely to in- 
quire about my trip abroad. Mamma had 
boldly proclaimed this after receiving my first 
letter; this being evidence to her that I had 
escaped at the time of the fire. 

My letter from Baden-Baden also played an 
important part in the role she was enacting 
for my benefit. Even Mr. Booth did not sus- 
pect our correspondence had been so limited, 
and imaginary letters had been read to Marie. 

Any allusion to the reasons for my going to 
Green Hills was tabooed, as I still felt resent- 
ful, and I could not, as yet, forgive Nathan. 

When Marie awoke she asked for me, and 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


159 


made William quite jealous by saying she 
would not need him so much now Sister Frank 
had come. He had been devoted to her since 
her fall, and she proudly confided to me; “he 
has indulged in but two fights since I was hurt 
and he beat in both. He never swears only 
when he forgets.” 

It was evident the boy was much improved. 
He was strong, and could carry or wheel 
Marie about the house wherever she desired to 
go. He attended school, but all his spare time 
was cheerfully given to his young patroness. 
Indeed, he seemed to consider it an honor to 
wait upon her. He also assisted her with her 
flower garden, a fine variety of plants which 
he had potted and arranged in a circle in the 
bay-window. In the center of this circle was 
her reclining chair on which she lay, a flower 
among flowers, making a lovely yet pathetic 
piqture. 

William was also her messenger, carrying 
the fair blossoms to the poor and afflicted 
where they would give comfort. 

She eagerly pointed out to me a cluster of 
unfolding rose-buds, saying, “They will be in 


160 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


bloom to-morrow and I’m saving them for 
little Lily Brown, who has been ill weeks and 
weeks. The last I sent her a man offered 
William fifty cents for, and boy-like, he 
accepted the offer and took the money to 
Lily. She cried and said she would rather 
have the flowers. 

“These were the flowers that William had 
one of his fights about. A boy met him and 
called him a ‘girl-boy;’ he wouldn't stand 
that He told me he just laid the bouquet 
down and wiped the ground with the rowdy, 
although the rowdy was the biggest.” 

“It’s a pity William will fight,’’ I said, to 
draw Marie out, for it seemed to me she 
rather enjoyed his pugilistic feats. 

“Yes, it’s a pity, but he will do it,” she 
replied in a tone of mild resignation. “Mr. 
Booth thinks he will outgrow it,” she added, 
with a sigh, “and Mr. Booth knows.” 

Hero-worship is strong in womankind. 
Marie had a touch of it, but she was unable 
to make a distinction between physical and 
moral courage. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


161 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

I naturally resumed duties which had occu- 
pied my attention before I left home, but they 
seemed tame to me now. It is true my music 
was an unfailing source of comfort and more 
pupils applied than I could accept. I was also 
offered a position to sing in the Episcopal 
church, which I declined on account of my 
overweening love for Gabriel Booth. His 
pulpit ministrations satisfied my soul. His 
daily life was a sermon. I could find no flaw 
in his character. I loved him devotedly; not 
as I loved Judge Bennett, in whose arms I 
ardently longed to be, but as one possessing 
more than human perfection, and whose good 
opinion I coveted above everything else. 
Judge Bennett was connected in my mind with 
the things of earth; Gabriel Booth with the 
things of heaven. Could both men have been 
made into one, to have been wedded to that 


162 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


one would, at that time, have satisfied every 
desire of my soul. 

Marriage, after all, was only a secondary con- 
sideration. I preferred a professional career 
and matrimony might interfere with this. What 
Madam Laureola had said to me about rowing 
against the tide only stimulated my desire to 
overcome difficulties. If I chose the law, 
lawyers would antagonize me ; if I chose med- 
icine, doctors would try to put me down ; if I 
wanted to devote my life to ministrations in 
the pulpit, the holy ecclesiastics would say me 
nay; and all this because of my sex. 

I wondered how Mr. Booth regarded the 
subject of woman’s sphere, which Susan B. 
Anthony and others were discussing on the 
platform, and if he would approve of women 
studying for the ministry. He visited Marie’s 
room every day, and here we often met and 
exchanged views. 

I said to him on one of these occasions, “Do 
you approve of women preaching?” 

“As ordained ministers, certainly not,’’ he 
replied, “our Church would not ordain a 


woman. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


163 


“Why not, Mr. Booth?” 

“It would be against all precedent. There 
was not a woman among the twelve apostles, 
and it is evident that if Jesus had intended 
women to preach, he would have said so. ” 
“Then it would be no use for me to study 
for the ministry?” 

He looked at me in pleased surprise as he 
said, “I am glad you have a desire to preach, 
for I have looked in vain for you in the Sun- 
day school since your return, and there is your 
opportunity. You may train the young. 
Women are especially adapted to that kind of 
effort, and, Frank, you are a born teacher. 
You demonstrate that gift in teaching music. 
There is no one among our young people more 
competent to do church work than yourself. ” 
“But, Mr. Booth, I can’t make teaching in 
the Sunday school and doing other church 
work my life work, unless I am paid for it. 
I want to be independent. ’ ’ 

He looked aghast. “I thought you had 
chosen music as your profession,” he said. 
“Oh, no,” I replied, “not to the exclusion of 

other things. I have a passion for music, but 
11 


164 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


I want to know something else. I have 
thought of studying law, for even if I could be 
ordained, I am not good enough to study for 
the ministry. ” 

“No, indeed,” interposed Marie, who had 
been a silent listener to our conversation, “you 
couldn’t preach if you don’t say your prayers. 
Mr. Booth,” she continued, turning to him, 
“you said Frank would say her prayers and she 
doesn’t say them yet. ” 

Ablush, like a girl’s, overspread Mr. Booth’s 
face as he looked at me. I also felt the color 
mount to my cheeks, and Marie stared from 
one to the other. 

“What’s the matter?” said she. 

Mr. Booth made an effort to sustain his 
gravity but his dancing eyes betrayed him, and 
he answered my deprecatory smile with one of 
cordial forgiveness. 

His voice vibrated pleasantly as he said to 
me, “I know you are good enough to preach, 
but as you are denied the privilege, why not 
help some one else to preach?” 

“There would be no money in it,” I said 
playfully. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


165 


“How sordid you have grown,” he con- 
tinued, in the same vein. “But, seriously,” 
he continued, “I never saw a young lady so 
anxious to make money as you say you are.” 

“That's the reason there are so few women 
who have made fortunes. They don’t care to 
do it, and they have not been trained to make 
their own money. Now, I haven't an inordi- 
nate love for money, but I know money is 
power, and I want my share of it. I could do 
a thousand things that I desire to do, if I had it. " 

“Well, Frank,” said Marie, “you are richer 
now than any of us; you have Aunt Susan's 
jewels. ” 

“I do not intend to keep them, or her money 
either,” I imprudently replied. 

“Will you give them to Mr. Booth?” Marie 
asked quickly. 

I was astounded and knew not what to say. 
There was an embarrassed silence and Mr. 
Booth arose to go. I followed him out. 

“Mr. Booth,” I said, when we were alone in 
the hall, “Marie has guessed right. I will tell 
you all about it when the opportunity occurs. 


166 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


I do not consider Aunt Susan’s jewels mine. 
They should be worn by your wife.” 

“Keep them, Frank,” said he, “for I shall 
never marry unless I marry you.” 

With a sudden impulse, he seized my hand, 
and fervently pressed it to his lips. 

I seemed, at the same moment, to feel a 
caressing touch on my shoulder, and I thought 
of Judge Bennett. 

Mamma’s entrance into the hall put an end 
to our interview. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


167 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

“It is likely both of the applicants would be 
desirable additions to our family," said 
mamma, alluding to two persons who were 
waiting her answer to their request to admit 
them as boarders. 

“Mr. Gale is an artist, has been studying 
abroad, and his antecedents are of the best. 
Miss Gay comes equally well recommended, 
but you know we can not be too careful where 
a woman is concerned, and I intend to make 
further inquiries concerning her. ’ * 

“Why should you be more careful about the 
woman’s character than about the man’s, 
mamma?’’ 

“Oh, you know, a breath of scandal would 
ruin her; but with a man it’s different." 

“Do you mean to say it might help him 
along?" 

“No, not exactly that. But the world con- 


168 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


dones that in a man which it does not in a 
woman.” 

“Do you?” 

“Why, yes, of course; everyone does. ” 

“Well, I’m not going to,” I said, with an 
indignant toss of my head. “I’m going to 
stand up for women. You may turn your 
searchlight on the young lady’s character, and 
I will turn mine on the young man’s; and if 
neither prove perfect, let’s take them all the 
same, and turn them over to Mr. Booth to 
reform. There would be money in it, and there 
would be the satisfaction of having done a good 
deed. Money and a clear conscience is all 
anyone wants.” 

Mamma smiled. “I think we will take them 
without further investigation into their char- 
acters,” she said. 

They came. Miss Gay with her trunks, the 
size of which at least was sufficient to entitle 
her to highest consideration. One, William 
said, contained nothing but books and drawings, 
for it transpired she was an architect. Her 
quiet Quaker dress indicated that she belonged 
to that sect. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


169 


Mr. Gale brought but few belongings, and 
seemed very modest and unobtrusive. 

Miss Gay, on the contrary, was breezy, and 
her cheery voice and lively manners were 
infectious. Mamma and myself became 
interested in her plans for buildings, the 
erection of which, she informed us, she usually 
superintended. She was a genius in her line, 
and originated plans which surprisingly com- 
bined beauty and utility. Especially did she 
understand the best arrangements for conveni- 
ences in housekeeping, and, at her suggestion, 
mamma made several improvements in our 
own dwelling. 

Through Mr. Booth’s influence, plans for our 
new church were submitted by her and ac- 
cepted. I was particularly interested in these, 
and while she was drafting, I often dropped 
into her room. On her table lay a pile of 
sketches of different buildings which she had 
made. I came across one which reminded 
me of the peculiar arrangement of Judge Ben- 
nett’s house, and I said, “Whose house is 
this?’* 

“That is Judge Bennett’s house in New 


170 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


York. He is a very peculiar man, and had 
strange ideas about the arrangement of a home. 
Some people thought he wanted to make a 
sort of prison for his wife, he was so jealous of 
her. She was an invalid and he gave instruc- 
tions to her nurse never to lose sight of her. 
It is a rambling affair and so arranged that 
deeds of darkness might be committed with 
impunity. It was reported he kept some one 
confined there. The servants say there are 
certain rooms in the wings he always keeps 
locked. But still, Judge Bennett is a man 
highly respected and of immense wealth. He 
believes in giving women a chance, so em- 
ployed me to draft the plans. ” 

“Did you ever hear he was unkind to his 
wife?” 

“Oh, no,” she replied; “the truth is, Judge 
Bennett is different from others, and one who 
is not understood is often suspected of wrong. 
He had a handsome boy, Frank, with him 
for awhile, whom Kathrina, his wife’s maid, 
thought he cared more for than for his wife and 
child. That boy, after Mrs. Bennett died, 
bade them all good-bye and went off, no one 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


171 


knows where. Frank taught Judge Bennett’s 
daughter music, and she was very fond of 
him.” 

‘‘How old was the boy?” I questioned. 

‘‘Why, he must have been nineteen or 
twenty, and the girl is in her fourteenth year ; 
just the right age to imagine themselves in 
love, thee knows. ” 

“Does any one think the boy might have 
been murdered by him?” I asked. 

“Well, when people don’t know what has 
happened, they are apt to suspect anything, ” 
was the reply. 

“I scarcely think the Judge would murder 
the boy,” she said, after a moment’s thought, 
“but his eyes show that he could do desperate 
things. They are like coals of fire.” 

I was anxious to learn when she had last 
seen the Judge, and said, “How long since 
that strange house was built for — I think you 
said his name was — Judge Bennett?” 

“Yes, thee has the name right; it was built 
a number of years ago. I have forgotten just 
how long. But I saw the Judge just before I 
left New York. It was the first time I had 


172 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


seen him since his return from Europe where 
his wife died. He is my attorney. ’ ’ 

I wondered if fate was winding its web 
around me, and through this woman Judge 
Bennett would learn my carefully concealed 
address. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


173 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

It was almost impossible to secure a private 
interview of any length in the common par- 
lor at our house, and this was the only place in 
which it would have been thought proper for 
me to meet Mr. Booth, unless he were espe- 
cially invited to mamma’s private parlor. 

I was anxious for the interview, for I thought 
it important that I should disabuse his mind 
of the idea that I would ever become his wife. 
I believed it would pain him, and I was dis- 
tressed that a man so good and gentle should 
suffer on my account. 

At length I took mamma partially into my 
confidence, and, through her, made an appoint- 
ment with Mr. Booth. Mamma was only too 
glad to favor the interview, for nothing would 
have given her more satisfaction than a union 
between her daughter and her pastor. I did 
not have the heart to let her know that the 


174 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


meeting she had planned would be the death 
blow to her hopes. 

With a countenance of heavenly radiance, 
Mr. Booth entered the parlor where I was 
awaiting him. 

“At last,” he said, stretching out his arms 
as he advanced toward me. 

It was painful to dampen his ardor, by a re- 
pellent motion of my hand, but having done 
so, I said at once, “You have misunderstood 
me, Mr. Booth. You said you would never 
marry unless you married me, and if that is 
the case, you will never marry.” 

I can not, to this day recall that interview 
without tears. Mr. Booth’s nobleness of 
character was manifested in every word he 
uttered. I felt when it was ended that I had 
put away from me an angel, for the sake of 
what? 

I told him something of the First Owner of 
the chair, and that he was the rightful heir to 
Aunt Susan’s property. He said Aunt Susan 
had a right to will her property to whom she 
chose, and he would accept no share in it, even 
if all the First Owner had said were true. He 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


175 


was deeply interested and made many in- 
quiries. He never hinted that it was possible 
for me to have been laboring under a halluci- 
nation. The fact that his family coat of arms 
was an exact copy of the carving on the chair 
seemed to impress him as a mystery worthy of 
attention. 

I did not tell him the First Owner had said 
that at Gabriel Booth’s death, without issue, 
he would be released from the bondage of the 
chair. I told him, however, that he was the 
last descendant. It occurred to me when I 
said it that if Mr. Booth adhered to his decision 
never to marry, there was but one life between 
the First Owner’s release from thralldom. 

I also told Mr. Booth of my resentment 
toward Nathan, and the effect it had produced 
in regard to my devotions. He evidently lis- 
tened with a distracted mind and finally said, 
“I am not in a condition to give you advice 
this evening, Frank; your heavenly Father 
knows all about it. Talk to Him and tell me 
more when I am better able to listen. I can 
not yet believe it possible that I am to go 
through life without you. ’ ’ 


176 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


“Mr. Booth,” I answered, “don’t think 
about it. Let us be brother and sister, for I 
have no brother and you have no sister.” 

“I shall gladly accept your proposition,” he 
said, “until the time, which I still hope will 
come, when your heart will respond to the 
affection with which mine burns.” 

I felt unworthy of the love which that noble 
man was lavishing upon me, but I was thank- 
ful that he loved me still, and I hoped he 
would never cease to bestow at least a 
brother’s love upon me. 

When he arose to go I wanted to detain him. 
I wanted to give him some expression of my 
feelings toward him that would not be misun- 
derstood, but I dared not trust myself to say 
more. 

Although the hour was late, I could not re- 
tire without my usual good-night interview 
with Marie. The dear little thing slept by 
snatches and spent hours in improvising songs 
which she crooned to while away the slow-going 
time, — time winged to the joyous and weighted 
to the sorrowing. 

She was saying her prayers in whispers and 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


177 


as I crept into her room she looked up and 
said, “Frank, I more than say my regular 
prayers now. I ask God for everything I want 
and it takes a long time. I keep saying things 
to Him almost every minute I am awake. I 
talk to Him about my beautiful flowers. They 
are the angels, you know, that God and I send 
to comfort the sick. 

“All my songs are to Him now. You 
haven’t heard my new ones. They are all 
about the glory that papa went away with. 
When I lie in papa’s chair, it often seems to 
me as if I were on his lap, with his arms 
around me, just as he used to hold me. Oh, 
Frank, I have dreadful pains, but after the pain 
comes the glory ; I mean, I seem to see it again. ’ ’ 

“Have you pain now, Marie?’’ 

“Not much, only a little stinging in my 
back.’’ 

“Shall I rub it for you?’’ 

“I’m afraid you are too tired, Frank, play- 
ing the piano so much.’’ 

“No, Marie, I’m not tired; my arms are as 
strong as a man’s, and will take away those 
stinging pains.” 


178 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


While I was rubbing her, with great solici- 
tude in her tone the child said, “William says 
it’s a blasted shame that driver was so careless 
as to let me get hurt, and when he gets a 
chance he is going to knock him down and pound 
the life nearly out of him, and mamma says 
she shall never forgive him, and that worries 
me, for you know we must forgive. 

“Mr. Booth says we must, because it’s in 
the Lord’s prayer, you know. We never 
know how much God has forgiven us until we 
forgive others. If you know, Frank, how Mr. 
Booth and I long to have you say your prayers, 
you would begin this very night.’’ 

I kissed Marie and went to bed without say- 
ing my prayers ! 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


179 


CHAPTER XXX. 

Since the artist, Mr. Gale, had become do- 
mesticated in our household, the question of 
having Marie’s portrait painted had frequent- 
ly been discussed between mamma and myself ; 
and had at length been decided. 

Mr. Gale was pleased with the idea, for he 
had a profound admiration for Marie. 

Marie was quite delighted with the proposi- 
tion, for she said the picture would be nice to 
leave, if she should be taken away. 

One morning when Marie had been making a 
wreath of small white roses, to be used at the 
funeral of a poor little girl which was to occur 
that day, and a few of the loose flowers and 
litter lay scattered about her, Mr. Gale stood 
looking at her admiringly. 

“I want now to arrange you for the sitting, 
Marie,” he said. And he went to her, lifted 
the crimson satin cushion against which she 

leaned, rested her head upon it, and let down 

12 


180 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


the back of her velvet covered chair, until it 
threw her into a reclining position. Then he 
dropped the wreath on the side of her head, 
and the effect was that of a child pleasantly 
reposing. 

William came in just then, and appreciating 
the situation, he flung the pretty soft scarf he 
had brought for Marie’s outing on the veranda, 
gracefully across the chair, which was just the 
drapery required to produce a perfect effect. 
Mr. Gale said kindly, “That completes the 
picture. ” Marie’s face beamed with one of her 
most seraphic smiles. 

No artist could paint a face like that and not 
feel the influence of its spiritual beauty. Mr. 
Gale’s rather somber countenance lighted up 
during the time he was engaged upon it. 

William was delighted, and perhaps for that 
reason Mr. Gale became especially interested 
in the boy who criticized his work, as it pro- 
gressed, with great freedom. Mr. Gale play- 
fully asked him if he did not think he could 
paint a better picture himself, and he boldly 
replied that he intended to try some day. 

Mr. Gale became satisfied, from seeing spe- 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


181 


cimens of William’s handiwork, which he had 
kept concealed in his room, that he was a gen- 
ius needing encouragement, and was delight- 
ed to give him instructions in art. 

Marie experienced great delight in listening 
to William’s boasts about his future as an artist. 

“I will make such pictures,” said he, “as 
you see at fairs that win prizes. I will make 
a picture of George Washington. He will be 
on a white horse with a tall white feather in 
his hat, and he will have a drawn sword in his 
hand, and he will look as if he could lick the 
whole world. The horse will have a mane and 
tail yards long, and it will paw and snort and 
chaw its bits and hold its head high. Jerusa- 
lem ! People will be scared when they look 
at it.” 

“And Marie,” said he, waxing warmer, un- 
der his listener’s admiring gaze, “I shall paint 
you. You will be laying your little bank on 
the desk before the judge to pay my fine, and 
Mr. Booth and all the rest will be looking at 
you, sort of surprised.” 

“And you, too,” interrupted Marie, “you 
will be looking at me. ’ ’ 


182 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


“Of course, I shall be looking at you wheth- 
er I am in the picture or not.” 

“But you must be in the picture,” insisted 
Marie, “because you looked splendid that 
morning ; you looked like a regular fighter. * * 

“Did I?” said William, delightedly. “You 
will have to learn to paint, too, Marie, and 
paint me, for I didn’t see myself; so we will 
have to paint the picture together. I’ll paint 
you and you paint me. ’ ’ 

This was a new thought to Marie, and she 
nursed it until nothing less than the promise 
that she should receive lessons with William 
would satisfy her. 

William was at first not a little jealous of 
Marie’s new found friend, as he was of me on 
my return home, and it was not surprising, 
considering his devoted attachment to her and 
his dependence upon her for nearly all the 
sympathy and consolation he had ever re- 
ceived. 

Mr. Gale was a long time in giving the fin- 
ishing touches to Marie’s portrait. It was still 
upon his easel when William had the misfor- 
tune to be arrested in another fight. This time 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


183 


it was with the carriage driver to whose care- 
lessness Marie’s affliction was due. Mr. Booth 
chanced to pass that way and witnessed the 
last of the affray. He said William’s rage was 
something dreadful in a boy, and that he 
severely punished his burly antagonist. 

William’s story, told in his own words, was 
as follows : 

“He was standing by his carriage, with his 
whip in one hand, and his horses’ reins in the 
other, and I was going ’long past him, and he 
said, ‘What are you scowling at me for, boy?’ 
Then I stood still and looked at him. I suppose 
I looked as if I wanted to fight him, for I did; 
and he raised his whip. ‘Go Tong,’ said he. 
I didn’t stir a step. He give me a lick. I 
snatched his blacksnake from him in a jiffy, 
and I lit in. I was so mad I didn’t care for 
nothing. I run between his fat old legs, and 
down he went into the gutter with his reins all 
tangled ’round his neck and arms. His horses 
began to rear, and he tried to unwind the 
reins, but I was on top of him, and he couldn’t 
do a thing but swear and kick and threaten 
me. He saw plainly if he didn’t mind himself, 


184 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


his horses would run and drag him to kingdom 
come in no time. I was putting in my best 
licks when Mr. Booth came along and a police- 
man wasn’t fur behind him, and the game was 
up.” 

The papers gave altogether a different ver- 
sion of the affair, the reporter having inter- 
viewed the coachman instead of William, who 
was represented in headlines as being “A 
Dangerously Vicious Boy.” 

William, after all, came home from his trial 
something of a hero, for the big coachman cut 
a sorry figure preferring charges of assault 
against a stripling like the prisoner, to whose 
straightforward story the judge listened with 
a slight twinkle in his dignified eye. 

A new hat, in William’s hand, was all the 
evidence he brought home with him, of having 
matched his weight of 125 against 250. 

When he read the report in the paper, anoth- 
er fight seemed imminent, and that the edi- 
tor’s scalp would be the next trophy the “vi- 
cious boy” would hang at his belt, was a fore- 
gone conclusion. 

But the gospel of peace, as preached by Mr. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


185 


Booth and Marie, had a salutary effect on the 
young pugilist, and he once more settled down 
quietly to the culture of flowers, which em- 
ployment itself begets harmony in the soul. 
Marie even went so far, in a few days, as to 
propose he should take a bouquet of her flowers 
to the man he had handled so roughly, but 
William had not yet grown in grace sufficiently 
to be willing to offer the olive branch. 

“No,” said he, “I can’t do that, even for 
you, Marie. If you don’t want any more 
fighting done, let me keep away from him. 
He riles me.” 

The most quieting employment for William, 
and the one which seemed to suit him most 
perfectly, was his lessons in drawing. He 
proved an apt scholar in artistic creations, and 
Mr. Gale spared no pains in the instruction 
which he was pleased to give him. He was 
soon able to assist Marie in her efforts in the 
same line, while she, very delicately, corrected 
his grammar, and gave him all the help in her 
power. 

Her pain grew less, but the injury to her 
spine was such as to helplessly confine her to 


186 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


her chair. Her portrait, which Mr. Gale had 
painted, and which hung in the hall, was a vis- 
ion of loveliness, but not more lovely than her- 
self. The budding child gave promise of un- 
folding into surpassingly beautiful womanhood. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


187 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

Miss Gay had just finished reading a letter 
which she held in her hand as I passed her 
open door. She called after me. 

“Here is something that may interest thee,” 
she said; “thee may remember what I told 
thee about the peculiarities of my attorney, 
Judge Bennett. 

“I remember it well,” I replied. 

“Well, I wrote him on business and incident- 
ally mentioned some of your traits which I 
knew he would admire. Now, here is what he 
says about it;” and she read from the letter: 
“I trust your friend, Miss Frances Adams, 
whom you praise so highly will not disappoint 
you. I am glad you are so pleasantly situated, 
and that you enjoy the friendship of so estima- 
ble a young lady. Whatever concerns you or 
your friends, is of interest to me.” 

“Thee sees,” said she, pausing and playfully 
shaking the letter at me, “thou hast become 


188 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


an object of interest to Judge Bennett, and 
who knows what may come of it? He likes 
ambitious women. I know thee would just 
suit him. ’ ’ 

“Why wouldn’t you suit him?” I said. 

“O, he’d never think of me. He must have 
a blue blood, and he knows thou art that, for 
I have told him. This is not the first time I 
have written about thee to him; just a word, 
thee knows; but this is the first time he has 
noticed any remarks. ’ ’ 

“It’s too bad to be throwing out such hints 
about a man whose wife has scarcely been dead 
a year,” said I. 

“O, but I must get my work in before any 
designing widow gets ahead of me. I have my 
superstitions, and one of them is that the archi- 
tect who plans a house, is fated to influence 
the destiny of the lady who presides over it.” 

“Tell me all the things you have written the 
Judge about me,” I said coaxingly. 

“O, no; I can not consent to make any fur- 
ther disclosures. It is enough that I am con- 
vinced from this letter that I have played my 
cards well, so far, and I really don’t believe 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


189 


thee would refuse Judge Bennett, if he were 
to offer himself. I shall go to New York as 
soon as I can get the church building off my 
hands, and I want thee to visit me there.’ ’ 

“O, that is your plan?” I said; ‘‘lam afraid 
it will miscarry. I shall not go to the moun- 
tain, the mountain must come to me.” 

“So thee refuses to visit me in New York?” 

“I refuse to be introduced by you, in New 
York, to Judge Bennett.” 

“Is it Mr. Booth, then?” questioned Miss 
Gay, raising her eyebrows archly. 

My face grew hot with blushes. My com- 
panion saw I was annoyed and hastened to 
apologize. 

“I beg thy pardon,” she said, “if I have 
taken too great liberty with thee.” 

“Mr. Booth is very dear to me as my pastor, 
and it hurt me a little to have him spoken of in 
any other relation,” I explained. 

“O, well, if that is all, don’t lay my thought- 
less words up against me, ” she said. “I pre- 
sume thee would as soon think of marrying 
the angel Gabriel as Mr. Booth, but I have 
read that, long ago, the sons of God saw the 


190 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


daughters of men — that they were fair, and 
they took them wives of all they chose; 
and, in my opinion, that is about what one of 
the sons of God, in this house, is thinking of. 
But Mr. Booth would not fully satisfy thee. 
Educated in the old theology, he is neces- 
sarily a little narrow in his views.” 

“O, don’t say that, Miss Gay; he is one of 
the broadest minded men I know.” 

“In spots, Miss Frank; he is broad in spots. 
He would approve of women going to the 
ends of the earth to preach to the heathen, 
without ecclesiastical ordination, or even here, 
for that matter in the Sunday-school, but he 
would deny her ordination to preach in his 
own pulpit. She might speak there, but not 
as an ordained minister. Now, I call that 
abridging the rights of women, and I call it 
disobedience to the commands of God himself, 
and antagonistic to the doctrines which Jesus 
Christ promulgated. Mr. Booth preaches a 
doctrine he doesn’t understand in its fullness, 
or he would be glad to have every human 
being enjoy the same privileges which he 
enjoys. Love one’s neighbor as one’s self 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


191 


covers more ground than thy good pastor has 
dreamed. It covers the woman question!” 

Remembering that Mr. Booth had instanced 
Christ’s example in choosing only men for his 
apostles as reason for the church refusing to 
ordain women, and anxious to exonerate him 
from the charge of narrowness or bigotry, I 
repeated to Miss Gay what he had said. 

“O, yes,” she replied, “I know all their rea- 
sons, but they are like the laws of England, of 
which it has been said that a coach and four 
might be driven through every one of them, in 
their interpretation. Because Christ drank 
wine drunkards say it is the thing to 
guzzle; and because Christ did not 
choose women for his apostles, theologians in 
this enlightened age, say women must not be 
ordained. I tell you, when the commands of 
God, and the doctrines preached by Jesus 
Christ, are understood and carried out, there 
is not a field of usefulness open to men that 
will not be open to women.” 

‘‘I wish you would talk to Mr. Booth on the 
subject,” I said, ”1 don’t think he has consid- 
ered it in the light in which you put it.” 


192 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


* 1 Bless your innocent heart ! My views would 
bore him. All he wants of me is to tell him 
how the church should be built. He doesn’t 
want me to tell him, if thou art his wife, his 
sons will lean to music, and if I occupy that 
position, they will have proclivities for archi- 
tecture, for he knows it as well as thee knows 
that thy daughters will inherit their father’s 
traits. Things that he is conscious of being 
ignorant of, he will listen to, but he thinks he 
knows more about theology than I. Were I to 
say to him, if thou circumscribe woman’s at- 
tainments thou wilt cheat thine own sex, for 
there can be no perfection in the race until we 
have a line of educated and untrammeled 
mothers, what would be his reply? ‘Let the 
women keep silent in the churches. ’ 

“He would thus, by quoting Scripture that 
he has misinterpreted, tie the tongue of oratory, 
and deprive her sons of the prenatal culture 
which the mother transmits to her offspring. 
Quakers, who have silenced song, have not 
committed so great a wrong. Our women 
may preach the same as men. ’’ 

“You must talk to Mr. Booth,’’ I insisted. ' 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


193 


“Thee must talk to him thyself.’’ 

“Oh, he would swamp me with arguments in 
a moment, if I were to undertake to convert 
him to the views you have expressed. No, 
you must compass his conversion yourself or 
he must remain in the heathenish darkness by 
which he is enveloped, ’ ’ I said, playfully. 

“Hast thou not a duty to perform?" 

“Not to Gabriel Booth," I answered. 

“Then, thou dost not love him?" 

I was silent. Miss Gay began folding the 
letter from Judge Bennett, which she had held 
in her hand ; pausing she offered it to me. 

“Would thee like to see his handwriting?" 
she said. 

I experienced a sensation such as a touch of 
the writer’s hand had, more than once, given 
me, as I took the letter. Marie’s theory about 
the subtle influence of the animate body upon 
inanimate objects was illustrated in my case. 


194 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

Strange wooing was Mr. Booth’s! Each day 
he made me conscious of his abiding affection 
by an act or look which I could not but under- 
stand, yet never a word did he utter. So long 
as he was satisfied he had no rival, he had 
evidently schooled himself to watch and wait. 

My heart reproached me for permitting these 
manifestations without protest, but what 
could I do? My tender attachment for him 
forbade me hurting his feelings. Many a 
sleepless hour did I pass in planning to break 
the illusion. Sometimes I would question my 
own sentiments toward him, and wonder if, 
after all, I would be satisfied to live without 
him. But when I compared the feelings with 
which I regarded him with those I experi- 
enced toward Judge Bennett, I knew which 
must be my husband if I ever married. 

Moreover, religiously I had grown away 
from my pastor. I no longer attended prayer 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


195 


meetings or Sundayschool. I had not said 
my prayers since I refused to pray for Nathan. 
That one act was the first step in my soul’s 
downward course. Although my prayers had 
been said in hope of promoting my spiritual 
well-being, as people take bitters for their 
physical health, my conscience had been so 
educated that I violated it when I ceased to 
pray. 

The exhortations of the First Owner of my 
antique chair, to pray for Nathan, were often 
remembered and every silent negative I in- 
dulged dropped like a stone in the way of my 
spiritual progress. 

Marie was the only member of the household 
who took the liberty of urging me to prayer, 
and this she did in season and out. 

Under the impression that, in due time, I 
would become amenable to the matrimonial in- 
fluences which Mr. Booth was foreordained to 
exert over me, mamma controlled the expres- 
sion of her anxiety, if she had any, on my 
account. She had made the mistake, so com- 
mon with mothers, of making a companion and 
confidant of another than her own daughter, 

13 


196 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


and it was not easy to establish that entire in- 
timacy between us which had existed between 
Aunt Susan and herself. She had left me to 
my own devices so long it was impossible for 
me, at once, fully to open my heart to her. 

Had I known that she was concealing a 
secret from me which I had a right to know, 
and which the force of circumstances at length 
compelled her to divulge, I might have been 
still more reticent than I was. I discovered 
in a book which I had taken from her table to 
read, a letter addressed to her in the well- 
known handwriting of Judge Bennett. She 
came into the room just as I had opened the 
book to the leaf where it lay. 

“Mamma,” said I, in surprise, “I was not 
aware that you corresponded with Judge 
Bennett.” 

Mamma seldom lost her presence of mind, 
but on this occasion her wits forsook her. 

“Yes,” she stammered, “that letter is from 
him.” 

She stood before me evidently making an 
effort to recover herself. The color had risen 
to her cheeks and the excitement under which 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


197 


?he was laboring gave a very youthful touch to 
her fine personal appearance. It occurred to 
me that she appeared young enough to be, her- 
self, the wife of the Judge. 

“I wonder,” I said, playfully, “if your epis- 
tolatory efforts have captivated the Judge. ” 

I had tempted her for the moment, more than 
she was able to bear. I noticed a sudden 
change in her expression. It was one of relief. 

“Frank,” said she, “how would you like the 
fudge for a step-father?” 

“I can tell better after I have tried him,” I 
replied; “he has certainly proved a very gen- 
erous friend, and I have no doubt would make 
a good step-father. When do you propose to 
give him that position in your family?” 

“Well, if he should desire it. I might set an 
early day,” said mamma, evasively. 

I was growing cold, but I gave no sign, 
while mamma was intently regarding me. 

“I see you don’t intend to gratify my curi- 
osity,” I said, and I resumed my reading. 

“Give me the letter,” said mamma, “that is 
what I came for. ” She took it and went away. 

I let the book, the pages of which had be* 


198 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


come a blank to me, fall upon my lad, and 
sat shivering as with an ague. 

How long I sat thus, frozen almost to stupe- 
faction, I know not, but it must have been a 
long time. When I did recover sufficiently to 
fully realize the situation, I was beside myself 
with rage. I muttered fearful imprecations. 
Queen Elizabeth, in her wildest seasons of 
temper, could not have been more profane. 
Had the angel Gabriel appeared at that mo- 
ment, I believe I would have freely anathe- 
matized him. 

My passion obscured my reasoning faculties 
to such a degree that I did not consider I 
might have been misled by mamma’s ambigu- 
ous statement. The question of how it had all 
come about was uppermost in my mind. Had 
his correspondence with Miss Gay, who doubt- 
less praised mamma as well as myself, effected 
the change? I thought of Madame Laureola, 
and her wonderful powers, and wondered if 
her necromancy was responsible for the 
strange turn in my affairs. The longer I dwelt 
upon the mystery the more difficult it became 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


199 


for me to solve. All I knew was that mamma, 
whose veracity I did not doubt, had intimated 
that Judge Bennett was to be my step- 
father. 


/ 


200 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

I still sat brooding over my bitter disappoint- 
ment, when I heard footsteps approaching. In 
an instant I snatched up the book lying in my 
lap, and when the door opened, I appeared to 
the intruders to be absorbed in its pages. 

“Reading yet?” said mamma, who was 
accompanied by Mr. Booth. “Why,” turning 
to her companion, “I left her here hours ago 
pouring over that same book. ’ ’ 

“Can you stop long enough,” she said, 
addressing me, “to see some music Mr. Booth 
has for you? It is for the oratorio. ” 

Mr. Booth came forward to where I sat, and 
mamma excused herself, as she had other mat- 
ters in hand. 

“Am I intruding?” asked Mr. Booth, notic- 
ing something unusual in my manner. 

“No, indeed,” I replied, rousing myself, 
and taking the sheet of music from him. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


201 


I glanced over it. “Let us go to the piano 
and practice it, “ I said. 

“Oh, no; not now!” objected my companion. 
“When such an opportunity as this occurs, for 
a little privacy, I want to improve it. For a 
long time — ever since our interview — when you 
told me about my being the last of my race, 
according to the wraith’s statement, I have 
been anxious to have further conversation with 
you on the subject. It is remarkable that the 
photograph of the coat of arms carved on the 
chair is my family ensign. There were other 
remarkable things which you told me at the time 
to which in my disturbed state of mind I gave 
little heed. I wish the chair had not been dis- 
posed of during your absence. I was sorry to 
see it go although, at the time, I knew so little 
of its history.” 

“Nathan was to blame for the outrage, ” I 
replied, “for it was nothing less. He came 
and offered mamma to take it back and pay 
her half the price I paid for it, and she let it 
go for she never liked it. But if I can find it, 
and it is purchasable, I will have it again. 
Nathan pretends he does not know to whom 


202 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


he sold it, and he thinks it was taken out of 
the city, but I am on the watch, and if it ever 
comes back, I intend to hear the end of the 
story the First Owner began to tell me. If 
impressions amount to anything, I have not 
seen the last of that chair. ” 

“Would you have any objection to my pur- 
chasing the chair, providing it can be found?” 
said Mr. Booth. “You know, it is the spirit of 
one of my ancestors who claims to be the First 
Owner, and as I am the last of his race, ought 
I not to be the last owner? I would lend it to 
you if I had it. ” 

“I am ashamed to appear less generous than 
yourself,” I replied, “but as I told you, the 
First Owner can only appear to the owner of the 
chair. Now if you were to own it, he would 
appear to you and not to me, and I could never 
hear the end of the story from him.” 

“But you could hear it from me,” said Mr. 
Booth. ‘ ‘ I would tell 'you all he said. * * 

I could not but smile at Mr. Booth’s clever- 

i 

ness. He was in one of his happiest moods, 
and had scarcely spoken before I felt his sooth- 
ing influence. I always felt a sense of protec- 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


203 


tion when he was near. As he sat there await- 
ing my reply, a more perfect specimen of man- 
hood could scarcely be imagined. His lofty 
brow, smooth and white as alabaster, over 
which strayed locks of gold, was a fitting dome 
to the faultless structure beneath it. Every 
feature was strong and clear cut, and his neck 
rose from the shoulders with a dignified poise 
which accorded well with every motion of his 
straight graceful figure. 

I never admired him more than I did at that 
moment, and never felt less like resisting his 
advances. I took a sudden resolve. 

“Mr. Booth,” I said, “I have never had a 
confidant, have never laid my heart bare to 
a human being. Whatever mamma knew, 
Aunt Susan knew. Papa was too sick, and 
Marie too young, to receive my confidences. 
My school friends I dared not trust, but I 
dare trust you, and to-day I know I ought to 
trust you fully, after all that has passed be- 
tween us. I believe your feelings toward me 
are such as you have declared them. I know 
I love you, but, my dear pastor, it is not in the 


204 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


way that a wife should love her husband. / 
have loved another , I know the difference 

I had cast down my eyes and did not raise 
them as I paused. I feared I might see him 
looking grieved. 

A short silence fell between us, which was 
broken by Mr. Booth saying, “Frank!” 

I looked up. He was white and calm. 

“This is not the time for me to say all that 
is in my mind,” he said in a voice faint and 
unsteady, “but, my dear sister, I assure you I 
desire your happiness above all else, even 
though it be with another.” 

“Oh, I did not mean to say I should marry 
another,” I replied; “no, no; I am bereft of 
hope. I shall be wedded to whatever profes- 
sion I shall choose. I think mine will be 
papa’s choice — the law. I hope I have inher- 
ited some of his gifts. ” 

“I’m sure you have,” replied Mr. Booth, 
“but why not choose the missionary field.” 

“What could the Church do with a mission- 
ary that does not say her prayers?” 

“I suppose it would have to let her sing 
them,” he answered, “as the birds do. Do 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


205 


you know, Frank, there were tears in the eyes 
of many of the congregation when you were 
singing last Sunday — 

Jesus, lover of my soul, 

Let me to Thy bosom fly, 

When the waters near me roll, 

When the tempest still is high.” 

As he slowly repeated the foregoing lines of 
his favorite among the “Songs of Zion, ' his 
voice seemed to gain strength and volume, and 
I knew he was resorting to the stronghold, 
while I was stubbornly battling the waves 
alone. 

“Those words,” he said, “always inspire me 
with courage. It has done me good to repeat 
them. They are to me what storm-cellars are 
to the dwellers in places where tornadoes pre- 
vail.” 

“I feel so wicked to-day,” I replied; “I 
don’t care what comes. I believe if I could 
have one of William’s fights with somebody 
it would do me good. I don’t want to sing my 
prayers, and I don’t want to be a missionary. 
I want to do something desperate. I would 
like to go over the Falls of Niagara. Now, 


206 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


you see, having once begun to confide in you, 
I am letting it all out. You shall be my fath- 
er confessor, for it is said confession is good for 
the soul. ’ * 

“I must give you advice, if I am to be your 
confessor,” replied Mr. Booth, apparently 
unmoved by the disclosures I had made, ‘‘and 
my advice is that you take a nap. ' ’ 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


207 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

Had my tender confessor advised fasting 
or flagellation instead of a nap, I might have 
starved myself to a skeleton or scourged my 
body until the blood flowed in streams, but it 
was impossible for me to do as he had counsel- 
ed, much as I desired forgetfulness in sleep. 
The Lethean cup was not for me. His pres- 
ence had, in a measure, quieted me, but on ac- 
count of an imperative engagement with one 
of his flock, he was compelled to leave me to 
my own devices. 

Passing Marie’s door, which stood slightly 
ajar, I heard her in earnest conversation with 
William, and paused a moment. I saw her 
reclining with a little gilt-edged book open in 
her hand, while William sat near with his slate 
on his Jap and his pencil poised between his 
fingers. 

“You can hurt your soul,” Marie was say- 
ing, “just as easy as you can hurt your body. 


208 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


If you put the hand of your body in the fire, it 
will burn and be injured, and if you put the 
hand of your soul in the fire, it will burn and 
be injured.” 

“Oh, no, Marie, the soul has no hand and can 
not burn.” 

“Yes it has, William. The soul has a hand. 
Mr. Booth says so. He says the soul is in 
the body and looks just like it, and when we 
die it goes out of the body and can be seen in 
the spirit world ; and he says whatever we do 
that is not nice and right, mars the soul that 
ought to look beautiful. I asked him if, when 
you fought and got your body all scratched up, 
your soul got scratched too, and he said it did. 
Think of that! You won’t fight any more, 
will you?” 

William looked thoughtful and made marks 
on his slate. ‘‘How does Mr. Booth know?” 
said he. 

‘‘Why, he’s a God-man and knows things we 
don’t. He says we never think a bad thought 
that does not mar our souls, and our thoughts 
affect other people’s souls, too. If we want to 
do people good, we must send them good 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


209 


thoughts. He says every thought we send out 
comes back to us, good or bad. ” 

The lesson I had heard goaded me, and I 
passed on, thinking thoughts that were to re- 
turn to me and burn my soul like fire. 

Miss Gay's cheery face was the next»to greet 
me. She was going out to post a letter. 

“Dear me!” said she, ‘‘how out of sorts thee 
looks! Doesn’t thee want to walk out with 
me for a change?” 

“I was going to practice for the oratorio,” I 
said, doubtfully. 

‘‘Oh, put that off and come with me. I have 
another letter from Judge Bennett, and I want 
to tell thee about it.” 

It is needless to say I accepted Miss Gay’s 
invitation. 

“The Judge is coming,” said she, as we 
walked leisurely along the avenue. “He 
writes he is coming this way on business, grow- 
ing out of a trial, and will stop over a day or 
two, for he wants to see me about my affairs. 
So thee sees, Frank, the mountain is coming 
to thee, as thee said it must.” 


210 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


“Not to me,” I thought, ‘‘but to mamma,” 
so I was silent. 

‘‘Why, what ails thee?” said my companion, 
peering under my hat. “I'm afraid thee is 
sick. ’ ’ 

“Oh, no, impossible! I was never sick in my 
life. There is nothing the matter, only I’m 
tired out preparing for the oratorio. When 
did you say your Judge was coming?” 

“He is not my Judge; he is thine. I insist 
upon it. The book of fate says thou art to 
marry Judge Bennett, and he is to be sent 
here for that very purpose. I feel it in my 
bones. He says he does not know the exact 
time when he will come, but he will write be- 
fore he starts, and I will let thee know so thee 
can have thy wedding gown ready.” 

It suddenly occurred to me that mamma was 
not preparing her trousseau, and that she was 
yet in mourning for Aunt Susan. 

We were passing a mail box and Miss Gay 
stopped to drop her letter without waiting a 
reply from me. 

“Now,” she said, as we resumed our walk, 
“that letter will excite the Judge’s curiosity 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


211 


about thee, and prepare the way for him to ask 
an introduction, and if nothing comes of it, I 
miss my guess.” 

“How old is the Judge?” I asked, carelessly. 

“Just in the prime of life, my dear. Prob- 
ably about thy mamma’s age, thirty-five or 
forty.” 

“Why not introduce him to mamma? I need 
a good step-father.” 

Miss Gay laughed gaily. 

“You should see the Judge to appreciate thy 
ridiculous suggestion,” she said. “Why, he 
looks ten years younger than he is, and he is 
ten years younger than he is. He is passion- 
ately fond of music and that will attract him 
to thee. It was the musical genius of that boy 
he took to Europe with him that bewitched 
him quite as much as the heroic effort the boy 
made to stop the runaway horses. Frank, does 
thee really think thy mamma would marry 
again?” 

“She might be tempted to if she had an 
offer from such a man as you say Judge Ben- 
nett is.” 

“No,” said Miss Gay, “I do not agree with 

14 


212 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


you. I think nothing could induce her to 
marry. She has been too long mistress of her 
household to submit to a division of authority, 
and is too self-reliant to feel the need of a hu- 
man leaningpost in the way of a husband. I 
admire her wonderful strength of character.” 

‘‘I presume that is just what the Judge 
would admire in her.” 

“Not after he has seen thee and heard thee 
play. I hope he will happen along just in time 
for the oratorio, for I know thee will cover thy- 
self with glory on that occasion. ’ ’ 

“I dread it, because my friends expect so 
much of me,” I replied. ‘‘I ought to be practic- 
ing now; I have wasted precious time to-day.” 

‘‘Oh, well, thee can make it up to-morrow,” 
said Miss Gay, carelessly. “Here we are at 
Mr. Gale’s studio; shall we go in?” 

I gave a reluctant consent. 

Mr. Gale welcomed us most cordially. It 
was my first visit, and I was much surprised 
when I recognized in the portrait he was paint- 
ing, the face of the young girl I had seen at 
Green Hills. She whose mind had been 
affected by the apparition seen in her chair — 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


213 


which I conjectured was the same I had owned. 
For obvious reasons I was silent on the sub- 
ject, and made my visit as short as possible. 

The artist also showed us a specimen of Wil- 
liam’s last drawing, which was on a piece of birch 
bark, and evinced true artistic skill. He said 
the boy was a most promising pupil, and would 
unquestionably rank foremost among artists. 


214 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

The opera house was filled to overflowing. 
The occasion was a benefit given a young girl 
of remarkable musical talent, which she had 
not means to cultivate. The oratorio of Queen 
Esther was being rendered by an amateur 
musical coterie. I was chosen to represent the 
Jewish queen. 

I appeared on the stage arrayed in oriental 
splendor. My long silken train, undulating in 
sheeny folds, was the only part of my dress not 
sparkling with real gems. All the jewels left 
me by Aunt Susan were shown in their splen- 
dor. Her rings, which were the same I had 
seen represented on the hands of the First 
Owner of my chair, encircled my fingers, with 
the one she always wore. The golden tiara 
which held my long borrowed locks in place, 
the rings in my ears, the bracelets on my 
arms, my anklets and my sandals, all shone 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


215 


with the precious jewels of Aunt Susan’s an- 
cestors. 

My gorgeous appearance, which doubtless 
did much toward assuring my success, was for- 
gotten by me, in the effort to act well my part. 
As I appeared for the last time on the stage, 
and was putting forth my best endeavor to 
fulfill the expectations of my friends, among 
the thousands of upturned eyes I saw but two, 
and those were Judge Bennett’s, piercing me 
as with arrows of fire. I was not aware of his 
arrival in the city, and my surprise was com- 
plete. For an instant my voice faltered, but 
pride came to my aid and I drew myself up 
and compelled the issue I desired, which was 
success. 

Mamma was detained at home by a slight ill- 
ness. As I was about taking the carriage, 
which William had waiting for me, when the 
performance was over, I felt a hand upon my 
shoulder. It was Judge Bennett’s. 

“Frank,” he said, “may I see you home?’’ 

“Why, Judge, of course,’’ I replied, in a tone 
as cordial as I could assume; “how you have 
surprised me! Is mamma expecting you?’’ 


216 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


He did not seem to notice my question as ne 
assisted me into the carriage and took his seat 
opposite me. When the door was shut, he 
bent over and looked into my face. 

“Are you really going to marry the preach- 
er?” said he. 

“What preacher?” I said, rather coldly, for it 
occurred to me he was presuming in advance 
on the fatherly authority he was expecting 
soon to exercise over me. 

“The preacher your mamma wrote me you 
were in love with, when I asked fof you.” 

“When you asked for me?” I exclaimed in 
unfeigned surprise. 

“Certainly; did you not see my letters?” 

I was silent, for I did not wish to compro- 
mise mamma. 

“There is some mistake,” I said at length, 
“but I have read no letters from you. Mam- 
ma will explain. ” 

“May I ask if you are in love with any 
one?” was the next eager question put by the 
Judge. 

Again I was silent. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


217 


“Say; say quickly!” said the Judge, his 
breath coming heavily. 

I could not speak, but he understood my 
look and was at my side in an instant. 

All too soon the carriage drew up at our gate 
and I parted with my lover for the night. 

Miss Gay was awaiting me in the parlor, 
having been escorted home by Mr. Gale. 

“Thy triumph was complete,” she said, 
“thy singing was wonderful, and thy appear- 
ance was magnificent. I wish Judge Bennett 
could have seen thee. He has written that he 
will arrive on the night train, and will call to- 
morrow. Now, hie thee to thy couch and get 
thy beauty sleep ere he sees thee.” 

I was only too glad to be thus summarily 
dismissed, for my overwhelming happiness 
could not long have been concealed from the 
quick-witted young woman. 

Mamma had fallen asleep when I went to 
bid her good-night, and Marie was sweetly 
crooning her songs on lier couch near by, but 
she paused long enough to tell me I looked 
heavenly and that she was praying for me. 

“Oh, joy, joy!” I repeated to myself over and 


218 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


over again, as I stood before the mirror in the 
privacy of my own room, slowly divesting my- 
self of my ornaments. The more I dwelt upon 
my happiness, the greater it became. All 
night long I reveled in sleepless bliss, and 
when morning came, I experienced no sense 
of weariness. 

Mamma having recovered, came to my room 
before I was dressed, and expressed her sur- 
prise at seeing me look so bright. 

“I thought you would be all worn out with 
the effort,” said she, “and I would send you a 
cup of coffee. ” 

“Oh, no,” I said, “I never felt better in my 
life. Excitement agrees with me. I am 
steely, mamma.” 

“I am sorry Mr. Booth could not have been 
here to enjoy your success. He was so inter- 
ested,” said mamma, alluding to the fact that 
our pastor had been called away to attend a 
funeral in the country. 

“Oh, an oratorio is nothing to him compared 
to the enjoyment he experiences in comforting 
mourners,” I replied; “let him go his own 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


219 


good way, and don’t try to entangle him in my 
badness. ” 

“Why, Frank, I thought you were deeply 
attached to Mr. Booth, and I know he hopes to 
make you his wife. ’ ' 

“Well, his wife I shall not be, mamma. I 
love him dearly, but not as I should love a 
husband.’’ 

“Frank, I am astonished; and I must make 
a confession to you. Judge Bennett wrote 
some time ago and asked for you, and I an- 
swered that you were attached to your pastor 
and would probably marry him, and I thought 
it best not to unsettle your mind by saying 
anything to you about the Judge’s proposal. 
I even went so far as to give you a wrong 
impression concerning his letter, when you 
found it in a book, as you will remember. I 
am sorry, but if you prefer Judge Bennett, I 
have not a word to say against him.’’ 

“Judge Bennett is in the city. He was at 
the oratorio last night and drove home with 
me, and when he told me about his letter to 
you, I said there was some mistake and that 
you would explain. He will be here to-day. ” 


220 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


I then told mamma of the relation which had 
been established between the Judge and my- 
self. She commended my prudence in giving 
her an opportunity to set herself right with the 
Judge, which, knowing her diplomacy, I was 
sure would be easy for her to accomplish. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


221 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

Later in the morning, William handed me 
a card bearing the name “Henry Turner,” 
with the information that the person it repre- 
sented was waiting in the parlor. 

Having promptly repaired thither, I saw be- 
fore me a man of rotund figure, and a face on 
which glowed the ruddy hue of robust health. 
His gray hair seemed rather out of place, but 
it added dignity to his otherwise rollicking ap- 
pearance. In England, from which country it 
transpired he had immigrated, he belonged to 
the class which ignores the eighth letter of the 
alphabet. This peculiarity was more pro- 
nounced in his present state of embarrassment. 

“Hi — Hi ’ave called,” he stammered, “to 
hask the privilege hof hexamining one hof the 
rings you wore last night. Hit is the one with 
the flat setting — the signet ring.” 

I regarded the request with a touch of suspi- 


222 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


cion. “The ring was my Aunt Susan’s,” I 
said; “have you seen it before?” 

“Hi can’t say I ’ave seen the identical ring, 
but Hi ’ave seen one like it.” 

“Would you object to telling me where?” 

My visitor looked at me quizzically. 

“Hit was on the finger hof the First Owner 
hof ha chair Hi bought some time hago. ’E 
always wears hit. ” 

“Have you the chair, now?” I questioned. 

“Yes, hindeed! Hi wouldn’t part with hit 
for hit’s weight hin gold. Hit’s Hinglish, you 
know! Hit’s ’undreds hof years hold.” 

“How could you see the First Owner, with 
the ring on his finger, if the chair is so old,” I 
said. 

My burly English visitor’threw his head back 
and laughed heartily. 

“Hexcuse my rudeness,” said he; “but you 
wouldn’t hunderstand hif Hi were to tell you. 
Hit would sound like a ghost story.” 

“Has the chair a coat-of-arms carved on the 
back, Mr. Turner?” 

“Yes, Miss Hadams, hit ’as. Hand the ring 
Hi want to see ’as the same coat-hof -harms 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


223 


hingraved hon hit. The first howner told me 
so. ” 

“I will fetch it,” I said, and I went for my 
treasure. 

On close examination, the delicate tracery 
on the stone setting of the ring proved to be a 
copy of the same coat-of-arms, which was 
carved on the chair in question; and which 
also corresponded with the photograph taken 
from the escutcheon of one of Mr. Booth’s an- 
cestors. Strangely enough, Aunt Susan had 
worn the ring for years without making the 
discovery, and during the time it had been in 
my possession, it had not occurred to me to try 
to discover the meaning of what I supposed to 
be hieroglyphics engraved upon it. Mr. Turn- 
er informed me that he had recognized sev- 
eral of the jewels, which I wore at the oratorio, 
as being the same as those worn by the first 
owner of the chair, who, he declared, appeared 
in it every night, and held conversation with 
him. 

“ ’E is all the companion Hi ’ave,” said the 
jolly Englishman, ‘‘for Hi ham ha bachelor, 


224 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


living halone, hand hit was lonesome Hi was 
before Hi bought the chair.” 

Mr. Turner’s interest in me deepened when 
I informed him I had once owned the chair, 
and intimated that I was anxious to possess it 
again. 

“Hi can not spare hit,” he said, shaking his 
head; “Hi would die hof the grumps without 
hit. The hold lord and Hi are chums hand 
can not be parted ’til the white flame carries 
’im hoff for good. ’’ 

“Has he told you the white flame will carry 
him off?” I asked. 

“Nay, not quite that,” said the Englishman; 
“but Hi suspect as much. ’E don’t say much 
about ’is affairs, but ’e ’as given me the 
’istory hof Hingland, hin bits, ’undreds of years 
back. ’E his han hinteresting ’istorian, hand 
for a great lord to condescend to such has me, 
shows ’ow things will be hin the next world. 
’E hadvised me to go to the oratorio, for ’e 
said hit was done to ’elp some one, hand ’e ’as 
warned me not to sit hin my chair when Hi can 
do good by leaving hit. Cobwebs hand dust on 
the back of the breeches hare has bad as cob- 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


225 


webs hand dust hon the prayer book, haccord- 
ing to the old lord’s teaching.” 

‘‘Has he ever urged you to pray for anyone?” 
said I. 

‘‘You’re right, ’e ’as! There his a man who 
’as cheated me hin a trade, and the hold lord 
hadvises me to forgive him hand pray for ’im, 
but Hi’ll see ’im in Tophet first, the lying 
scoundrel. Hit’s a good doctrine to preach to the 
good, but the likes hof me can’t swallow hit.” 

“Am I to be classed with persons like my 
visitor?” was the unwelcome thought that in- 
truded itself, like a dark specter, into the white 
light of the entrancing happiness, which the 
expectation of soon seeing Judge Bennett, had 
filled me. 

He was even then at the door, and William 
ushered him into the parlor, where he glared 
at the unfortunate Englishman, who soon after 
took his departure, having, at my request, left 
his address with me. 

I had but a few moments alone with the 
Judge, to whom I briefly explained matters re- 
lating to mamma and Miss Gay, the appearance 
of both being imminent. Indeed, catching 


226 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


the sound of approaching footsteps, I had 
scarcely seated myself at a proper distance 
from the Judge, when mamma appeared and 
greeted him very cordially. 

I immediately slipped away, leaving them to 
settle the little misunderstanding about their 
correspondence, as best they might, and went 
to Miss Gay’s room. 

The young lady was in an expectant attitude, 
having witnessed our visitor’s approach from 
her window. 

“Judge Benaett is here and calleth for thee, ” 
I said, playfully, “but you need not intro- 
duce me to him, for I was in the parlor with a 
visitor when he came, and have already made 
his acquaintance.’’ 

“Thou art a sly puss,’’ replied Miss Gay, “to 
circumvent me, but it is well that he has come 
and has seen thee. Is he not handsome?” 

“He is rather good-looking,’’ was my non- 
chalant reply. 

“Oh, he is more than that; he is kingly.’’ 

I could have hugged Miss Gay. 

“Shall we go down to the parlor?” I said. 

“Let us give him a chance to make the 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


227 


acquaintance of thy mamma,” said Miss Gay, 
retaining her seat. “Sit a moment and let me 
look at thee with Judge Bennett’s eyes. Short 
hair, no vanity there; short gown, no vanity 
there; rings in the ears, vain and heathen- 
ish ” 

“Stop!” I cried; “you are looking at me with 
your own eyes and not with your attorney’s. 
I venture the assertion, he admires long hair, 
long trains, and all the foolishness in which 
women indulge to please the sterner sex. 
Anything else would be mannish, and no true 
man can tolerate anything that apes mannish- 
ness in a woman. ” 


15 


228 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

Going down to the parlor with Miss Gay, I 
found mamma in confidential nearness to the 
Judge, with whom she was earnestly talking. 
They were opposite the door and as we en- 
tered the Judge immediately came forward to 
greet us. 

After a few moments of general conversa- 
tion, mamma arose, and, having extended an 
invitation to our visitor to dine with us, left 
the room. Later, Miss Gay, remembering an 
engagement at the church, the building of 
which she was superintending, excused herself, 
saying she would return in time to see the 
Judge before dinner. 

In that day full of ecstasy fell but one bitter 
drop, the thought of the disappointment I was 
sure dear Mr. Booth would experience when 
he should know of my engagement. Fortu- 
nately, having received no intimation of the 
state of affairs, he met the Judge at dinner as 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


229 


he would have met any other guest at 
mamma’s table. 

Even Marie was kept in ignorance of our vis- 
itor’s intentions, when he was taken to her 
room to make her acquaintance. She after- 
ward confided to me that she had hidden in 
the button-hole bouquet, which he had per- 
mitted her to fasten on his coat, the motto, 
“The Lord is my Shepherd.’’ 

“He is a pretty big sheep,’’ said she, “but I 
reckon he needs a shepherd as much as if he 
were a lamb, for he has awful eyes. ’ ’ 

“Do you like him, Marie?’’ I said. 

“Why, of course I do. I like everybody. 
But, dear me, he looked at you so, Frank. I 
would think if you were afraid of anything, 
you would be afraid he would turn into a bear 
and eat you. ' ’ 

“It would be a most delightful death to 
die,’’ I said, carelessly. But Marie treasured 
my remark in her imaginative mind until it 
assumed such proportions as to color her 
dreams, and during her first interview with 
Mr. Booth, after his return, I heard her say 
she had either dreamed, or I had told her, 


230 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


that it would be delightful to die and have the 
gentleman from New York turn into a bear and 
gnaw my bones. 

“The Gentleman from New York,” was the 
appellation which William had bestowed upon 
the Judge, and in consequence, Marie had 
adopted it. William, from the first, had con- 
ceived a great admiration for the Judge. 

“He's a man," he said to Marie, “a fellow 
wouldn’t like to fight. Nobody could whip 
him. I doubt if a regiment could down him. 
I’d like to see it tried. I’d just like to see how 
long a chip would lay on his shoulder. ’’ 

“Oh, William,’’ said Marie, “don’t speak of 
it. Why, he might kill somebody if he would 
do as you say.’* 

“Of course, he might. And he would, too, 
if he were mad enough. He’s the man for me ! 
He won’t stand any foolishness, I’ll ’low.’’ 

“Do you admire him more than you do Mr. 
Booth, William?” 

“Mr. Booth isn’t in it!” was the reply; “but 
if he were, he is the only man I know that I 
think wouldn’t be afraid to tackle the Gentle- 
man from New York. Mr. Booth wouldn't be 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


231 


afraid to tackle Satan himself, but he’s too 
pious to show what he can do. Piety is a good 
thing. Piety swells the heart. I’ll bet that Mr. 
Booth’s heart will outmeasure the biggest heart 
that ever beat. I’ll bet there isn’t a man on 
the face of the earth that would do more for a 
poor boy than he has done for me. I’ll never 
go back on Mr. Booth. The Gentleman from 
New York is fine, very fine, but I like Mr. 
Booth. ” 

“That’s right, William,” said Marie, “Mr. 
Booth is my man.” 

Judge Bennett had invited mamma, Miss 
Gay and myself, to drive with him in the cool 
of the evening, but mamma declined and Miss 
Gay also, so it came about that we had the 
carriage to ourselves, a boon for which we 
were duly thankful. 

It was moonlight and we were oblivious of 
the flight of time. Mamma had become 
alarmed but I gleefully informed her that I 
had been out many a night with the Judge later 
than that when I was a boy. 

The Judge insisted on my setting an early 
day for our marriage, and I named the time 


232 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


when I knew Mr. Booth would be absent from 
the city on his summer vacation. We spent 
hours in planning for the first month of our 
honeymoon, which we agreed should last so 
long as we lived. Neither of us cared to go 
abroad, and as our marriage was to occur at 
the season when the Judge usually resorted to 
the cool breezes of the mountains for hunting 
and fishing, I proposed that he should take his 
bride into the wilderness with him. He was, 
at first, inclined to object, fearing the fatigue 
and exposure would be detrimental to my 
health. But I drew such a charming picture 
of the delights of the rural venture, that he 
was finally won over, and even consented that 
we should, like Abraham and Sarah, dwell in 
a tent, in some sweet solitude which nature 
had doubtless provided for our especial benefit. 

Being doubtful of mamma’s approval of our 
wild plan, we decided to make a short trip to 
Saratoga Springs and from thence to the 
Adirondacks. 

Bernie was being educated at a convent and 
had arranged to spend her vacation, which 
would occur at that time, with a friend, and 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


233 


she was not to be informed of her papa’s mar- 
riage until his “hunting trip” was over and he 
was ready to return to New York. 

Judge Bennett, having a case in court, was 
obliged to return home the day following. As 
he was to leave on the midnight train, he lin 
gered by my side until the last moment, and 
when he had pressed me to his heart and I 
heard only his retreating footsteps, I flew to 
my room and quickly locked my door. Ex- 
hausted nature yielded to the long strain and 
ere long I was reveling in blissful dreams. 


234 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

My joyful countenance might have told the 
history of my heart to all beholders. I could 
not conceal my happiness, much as I desired to 
do so for Mr. Booth’s sake, who regarded me 
wonderingly, when we chanced to meet; for 
not a suspicion of the state of my feelings had, 
as yet, entered his mind. Three days had 
passed since Judge Bennett’s departure, and 
not a member of the family, except mamma, 
knew that he had taken my heart with him. 

There was to be no formal announcement of 
our engagement, and the wedding was to be 
quiet and unostentatious. Consideration for 
Mr. Booth’s feelings was the motive which 
prompted me to avoid publicity and display. 
In this mamma sympathized with me, al- 
though it was hard for her to reconcile herself 
to what she called “a commonplace wedding.” 

Judge Bennett had praised my appearance 
when personating Queen Esther, and I knew he 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


235 


admired beautiful women, for who does not? 
But I knew he loved plain me, and it was my 
ambition that he should at least admire the 
adornment of the “strange flower,” to which 
he said he had been attracted and would fain 
pluck for its fragrance. 

Judge Bennett was poetical, and also had 
great reputation as an orator ; but with all his 
gifts he was an exceedingly modest man, and 
was never known to indulge in a boastful utter- 
ance. 

In that respect he was like my beloved Mr. 
Booth, who actually grew dearer to me as I 
realized the nature of the separation that must 
soon come between us. I was unwilling that 
he should receive the information of my ap- 
proaching nuptials from the lips of a stranger, 
or even from mamma, for I considered it a 
sacred duty, which should be performed by 
me alone. I was at my wits end how it could 
be done in the most delicate manner. I wrote 
him a letter, but this I destroyed and the Fates 
finally came to my aid. I met him in the hall, 
coming from Marie’s room, and he stopped to 


236 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


ask if he could depend upon my assistance again 
in a sacred concert. 

“You were so successful in the oratorio,” he 
said, “we all feel that with your assistance, 
the concert must be a success. ’ ’ 

“Let us go to the private parlor and talk it 
over,” I said. 

He eagerly followed me to the place indicat- 
ed, and when I had shut the door, I turned to 
him and said, “When do you propose to hold 
the concert?” 

He named the first of the month in which 
he was to leave for his vacation, and the last 
of which I had set for my marriage. 

“I have another engagement which will oc- 
cupy me at that time, and I have wanted to 
tell you about it ever since I made it,” I said. 

“Indeed?” he replied, looking at me inquir- 
ingly. 

My tongue seemed for the moment para- 
lyzed. I could not speak. A hot flush mount- 
ed to my cheeks, and tears came to my eyes. 
I covered my face with my hands. “Mr. 
Booth,” I said, with my features still concealed 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


237 


“I am going to be married.” I then rushed 
from the room without even looking at him. 

I heard him go to his study, and pacing his 
floor, the sound of his footsteps gave me the 
only real pain which my happy heart experi- 
enced during all my preparations for the event 
which was to permanently separate us. 

My confidence was next given to Marie, and 
then to Miss Gay. The former wept and 
prayed over me more than ever, and asked 
permission to speak to Mr. Booth about it, 
which was granted. Miss Gay clapped her 
plump little hands joyfully. 

“Fitz-James knew every wily train 
A lady’s fickle heart to gain. 

And so does Judge Bennett,” she said. ‘‘Ver- 
ily, I feared Gabriel Booth was thy Malcolm, 
and what could even a king do against such a 
formidable rival.” 

“You must think very highly of Mr. Booth,” 
I said. 

“I do, indeed!” she replied. “His greatness 
grows upon me with association. A year ago 
my judgment of him was superficial, but now, 


238 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


in my opinion, he is very near to the God he 
worships. I revere him for his great goodness 
and his great talents. But, my dear, thou art 
on Judge Bennett’s plane, and not on Gabriel 
Booth’s. Thou hast chosen well.” 

“When will you be through with superin- 
tending the church building,” I said. 

“I will return to New York before winter.” 

“I shall probably be there to welcome you,” 
I said, “and a warm welcome you will receive. 
I appreciate an honest friend.” 

“Deceit lurks not in friendship,” was the 
reply. “I shall be only too glad to renew our 
pleasant acquaintance, but thou wilt be beset 
by friends and society will claim thee.” 

“Society can not have me. I intend to study 
law in my husband’s office.” 

“Hast thou said so to Judge Bennett?” 

“No, indeed! I intend to have him think 
of it himself and invite me to do so. ’ ’ 

Miss Gay smiled. There was something in 
her smile that made me uneasy. 

“You are irritating,” I said. “Why don’t 
you say what you think?” 

“I think thou art wise,” she replied, “if 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


239 


thou dost wait for thy husband to invite thee, 
but I wonder how long thee will wait. ” 

“You will see it will not be very long,” was 
my confident rejoinder. 

“Success to thee!” said my friend. “I ad- 
mire thy pluck.” 

Our conversation was here interrupted by 
mamma who called me away to accompany her 
on a shopping expedition in the interest of my 
trousseau. 

The only dress of my outfit about which I 
did not care to take counsel, was the one to be 
worn in the wilderness. I had planned this to 
please the eye of the Judge who was of Scot- 
tish descent. It was of Rob Roy plaid of the 
finest quality of imported goods. The kilt 
skirt met my russet leggins at the knee, 
which were supposed to be a protection against 
reptiles of all sorts. These with the loose fit- 
ting blouse, the winding scarf, and the Scotch 
cap, were packed secretly away from prying 
eyes. More than once, in the privacy of my 
room, I donned my cap and plaid and stood 
before the mirror, reveling in the thought of 
the delight I would experience with the chosen 


240 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


of my soul, in the green glades and mountain 
bowers that awaited our coming. Once I 
caught myself singing — 

My cap was my bonnet, my cloak was my plaid, 

As daily I strode through the pine-covered glade. 

I sang all the time when Mr. Booth was not 
in hearing, but we sang no more together. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


241 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

Opening the casket containing Aunt Susan’s 
jewels, I discovered I had therein deposited 
the address of the Englishman who owned the 
antique chair. I was overjoyed to find it, as I 
was anxious to visit the present owner of the 
chair while it was possible. Moreover, I thought 
it right that Mr. Booth should make his ac- 
quaintance, if he so desired, in order that he 
might through him learn more of his ancestors. 

I went directly to Mr. Booth with the ad- 
dress, and told him all I knew of the matter. 
He was much interested and proposed that 
we should together visit Mr. Turner. 

“I expect to leave for my vacation in a few 
days,” said he, ‘‘and as you may not be here 
when I return, I see no other way than to 
make this visit without delay. ’ ’ 

This was the first time he had alluded, even 
indirectly, to my marriage, since my abrupt 
announcement. 


242 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


“Mamma knows nothing of the matter," I 
said. 

“I think she should be informed and invited 
to accompany us," said Mr. Booth, promptly. 

“It is impossible!" I replied. “I would 
gladly go with you, but mamma must know 
nothing about it. She would have us both con- 
signed to a lunatic asylum." 

“Oh, not so bad as that!" said Mr. Booth, 
with a faint smile. “She surely ought to know 
where we are going?" 

“No, not in my opinion," I replied, shaking 
my head. 

Mr. Booth looked surprised. 

“Perhaps you had better go by yourself," I 
said, “only I would like to know the night you 
are going so I may give you a letter of intro- 
duction to Mr. Turner." 

Mr. Booth seemed relieved. “I will go to- 
night," he said. 

My letter was duly written, and Mr. Booth 
started with it after dark, for Mr. Turner’s, 
who lived in the suburbs. 

About midnight I was in a carriage roll- 
ing along toward the same place. The house 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


243 


consisted of two rooms, and when the door 
opened in answer to my knock, I saw Mr. 
Booth sitting in close proximity to the antique 
chair. 

“Woll, woll, woll!” cried the Englishman, 
“Hi ham surprised! Walk hin, Miss Hadams.” 

“Has the First Owner appeared?” I asked. 

“ ’E is hin the chair now,” was the reply. 

“Ask him if he will tell Gabriel Booth, 
through you, all he has told me, ’ ’ I said. 

“Will you?” questioned the present owner, 
turning to the chair. 

“ ’E says ’e will,” said the Englishman; 
“ ’e says tell you to pray for Nathan. ’E’s 
gone now hin the white flame; hit must be 
midnight.” 

“Yes,” I said, “it is midnight, and the car- 
riage is waiting for me, but I could not get off 
earlier, and I must go right home. If you 
would like to drive with me,” I said to Mr. 
Booth, “you’re welcome.” 

Mr. Booth entered the carriage, and 
as we were driven home, confessed that he 
had been profoundly impressed with what he 

had learned, through Turner, from the First 

18 


244 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


Owner. He said he had not questioned him 
concerning the statements he had made to me 
about his ancestors, for that was of minor 
importance compared to the secrets of the 
world from whence he came. “These ques- 
tions,” said he, “are of tremendous importance 
to one who stands, as I do, a teacher between 
the living and the dead. 

“Although I doubt the source of the com- 
munications,” he continued, “I am in full 
accord with the statement made, that the true 
philosophy of life is incorporated in the teach- 
ings of Jesus Christ.” 

Fearing he was about to make a personal ap- 
plication of these teachings, I took advantage 
of the pause to speak of the matter which es- 
pecially interested me at that time. Mr. 
Booth expressed himself as reconciled to 
what he called the dispensations of Provi- 
dence, and I begged him to accept the ring on 
which was engraved the coat-of-arms of his 
ancestors. He was reluctant to take it, but 
finally consented to wear it in remembrance of 
the occasion. 

When we alighted from the carriage, he took 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


245 


my hand and pressed it affectionately be- 
tween his own. “It is the last time,’’ he said, 
as we went into the house together. 

Mr. Booth left that week for his vacation and 
I was not ashamed to shed tears, with Marie, 
at his departure. 

“1*11 tell you, Frank,” said she, wiping the 
drops of grief from her eyes, “Mr. Booth 
doesn’t want you to marry the Gentleman 
from New York, and if I were you I would give 
it up.” 

“How do you know he doesn’t want me to 
marry?” said I. 

“Because he commenced talking about some- 
thing else when I told him, and then, my mind 
smelled it. There are some things people 
know without being told. I couldn’t keep 
your secret from William and he thinks it’s a 
grand thing, and says if it wasn’t for leaving 
me, he would go to New York with you.” 

“How could he leave Mr. Gale, who is going 
to make an artist of him?” 

“Oh, he would leave everything now if it 
wasn’t for me; but he knows he will have to 
go away when a man to seek his fortune. He 


246 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


has been reading a book about it and is going 
to Italy to be a great artist. When he gets to 
be somebody great, and I grow up to be a 
woman, he is going to marry me, and have all 
the doctors in the world cure me. Do you 
think, Frank, all the doctors in the world can 
cure me?” 

“I shouldn’t wonder,” I replied, ‘‘if our 
good old doctor himself should cure you. You 
are stronger than you were, I’m sure ” 

‘‘And,” said Marie, reverently finishing my 
sentence, “nothing is impossible with God. 
William says he will invite Mr. Booth to 
live with us. He will be dreadfully dis- 
appointed if I do not get well and marry him ; 
he says it would break him all up.” 

“You are both too young to talk about 
such things,” I said, “and 1 wonder mamma 
permits it.” 

“She doesn’t, ” said Marie. “She told me 
never to mention such nonsense to her again, 
or she would send William away. She called 
him a chore boy, too,” and the child lowered 
her voice, “but I didn’t tell William that. 1 
just told him mamma said our talk was foolish- 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


247 


ness and we must stop it, and he said ‘all right.’ 
He has promised mamma himself to say no 
more about it until he is a man and has made 
his fortune. But can we help thinking about 
it sometimes, Frank?” 

‘‘Yes, indeed, you can,” I replied. ‘‘You 
must think of your flowers and your drawing 
and your studies, and everything that should 
interest children, and leave housekeeping 
affairs to grown-up folks.” 

‘‘We never thought of it at all until your 
getting married put it in our heads,” said 
Marie. 


248 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER XL. 

My marriage took place on a balmy mid- 
summer night, the happiest — the very hap- 
piest— day of my life. 

Judge Bennett arrived on the noon train and 
I counted the hours until we should meet at 
the marriage altar. Mamma was at her best 
and that meant that every detail was perfect. 

For Marie’s benefit the ceremony was 
solemnized at the house, and when the judge 
stooped to kiss her, and receive her congratu- 
lations, she threw her arm gently around his 
neck and called him her dear brother whom 
“God had sent her.’’ 

She whispered to me, “He kisses beautifully, 
Frank. How happy you will be.’’ 

My answer was a silent hug. 

The midnight train bore us away to the 
summer resort, from which place the Judge had 
made all necessary arrangements for us to pro- 
ceed to our woodland retreat in the Adiron- 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


249 


dacks. This retreat in the heart of moun- 
tain scenery had been his hunting ground the 
previous summer. It was far from human 
habitation, beyond the sight and sound of 
civilization, a wilderness without a road except 
the waters of the Saranac that broaden into 
lakes. Often and often the river descends in 
rapids, impassable by the lightest skiffs, which 
must be carried by guides through narrow 
paths in the thickets. On the banks of one of 
the lakes, in the very heart of this wilderness, 
our tents were pitched. 

My first view of the spot filled me with de- 
light. Andy had made a little clearing around 
his tent and came out from it, followed by a 
dog dear to hunters, to give us a grinning wel- 
come. He led the way, with our luggage, up 
the winding path to the tent, which his skill in 
arranging green boughs within had made 
beautiful for us. 

I seated myself "on a camp stool and looked 
around. “I could stay here forever, M I said. 

Andy stood in the door showing his double 
row of white teeth from ear to ear. 


250 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


“You have done well, Andy,” said the 
Judge, “and now we want dinner!” 

I did not don my tartan until the following 
morning, when we planned to spend the day in 
hunting. My husband was charmed with my 
costume, for he not only admired the bright 
colors, but was delighted with the freedom it 

gave. He called me . It matters not what 

he called me, dear reader ; henceforth I must 
be more chary of details. 

I insisted on taking a few lessons in marks- 
manship before practicing on birds, for it did 
not occur to me that my light rifle would be 
called into requisition for anything more for- 
midable than the feathered tribe would pro- 
vide. In truth, I was loth to deprive even one 
of its members of a happy existence. 

My precaution was well taken and the in- 
struction I received proved of vital importance 
in our encounter with a bear, a few hours later. 
The Judge had shot and wounded the creat- 
ure, and his double-barrelled rifle was empty, 
when it turned furiously upon him. 

Although my heart was in my throat, and 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


251 


my aim uncertain, the bullet from my little rifle 
sped to a vital part and the beast fell dead. 

Judge Bennett said, “Frank, this is the third 
time you have stood between me and eternity. 
Ask what you will and it shall be given you.” 

“But for the instruction you gave me, I 
could not have done it,” I said. “You see the 
importance of imparting all your knowledge to 
me. I shall have to study law.” 

“It would be a good discipline for your 
mind,” he replied. 

“But with whom could I study?” 

“With me, of course; with whom else would 
you study?” 

“Are you in earnest, Judge?” 

“Never more in earnest in my life, Frank.” 

“Then it is settled. I’m glad I killed the 
bear!” 

Andy rolled his eyes until but little besides 
the whites were visible, when he was informed 
of the death of Bruin. 

“Be Lawdbressus! A bar!” he exclaimed. 
“Laws, I’m skeered ef deys bars prowlin’ 
’round here.” 

Andy’s timidity would not permit him to go 


252 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


out of sight of our encampment for several 
days. He imagined every rustle among the 
trees portended the stealthy approach of the 
enemy dreaded, and would stand and stare in 
mortal terror until reassured of his safety. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


253 


CHAPTER XLI. 

Time at length came for us to bid adieu to 
our halcyonian retreat and return to the busy- 
life of the city. Bernie, who had shortened 
her visit to her friend, was at home to welcome 
us. Her papa had written that he had wedded 
Frank’s twin sister and that Frank was dead. 
Was it not true that Frank the wayward girl- 
boy was dead, and reincarnated in Frank the 
girl-wife and mother? 

Bernie received me with open arms, declar- 
ing I was the exact image of my brother 
Frank. She called me Mamma Frank, which 
sounded strangely in my ears from a girl of her 
years. Strange but sweet, as it seemed to in- 
vest me with matronly dignity, and to cement 
the love I had borne the dear girl from our first 
acquaintance. 

It was evident also that the Judge was 
pleased that Bernie thus chose to recognize 
the new relationship between us, of her own 


254 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


free will. She had developed into a gay way- 
ward creature, longing for the time to come 
when she could leave school for society. De- 
voted as I was to her interests, it was a relief 
when she was safely in the convent. 

The last thing she said when she bade me 
good-bye was, “Mamma Frank, I’m going to 
run away from school and come home and have 
a good time.” I should not have been sur- 
prised had she put her threat into execution. 

Judge Bennett did not forget his invitation 
for me to study law with him, and I faithfully 
read Blackstone four hours of each day in the 
week. I also had hours for music and for 
household supervision. Sunday was our time 
to rest and enjoy each other’s society. We 
seldom attended public worship, for church- 
going was a bore to the Judge. 

Bernie returned home to spend the holidays 
bringing young friends with her, and the house 
rang with riotous pleasure. Strict discipline 
to which they were subjected at school, made 
them all the more lively when freed from its 
restraints. Miss Gay being in the city, 
accepted an invitation to spend Christmas 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


255 


week with us. She proved very helpful in en- 
tertaining the young girls, for her kind and 
jolly nature won them all. 

What is more delightful than the innocent 
ebullitions of youthful mirth? My physical 
condition rendered me peculiarly susceptible 
to the joyousness which the occasion called 
forth in the entire household. Bernie declared 
to me, confidentially, that her sainted mamma 
could never have endured such a hubbub. 

“It’s nothing but fun and frolic from morn- 
ing till night, and the servants are all in it.” 

Christmas gifts flowed in from all quarters, 
and among them was a drawing from Marie, 
executed by herself. It was an immense 
improvement on the picture of the angel, the 
study of which was to make William good. It 
represented a babe in a cradle and underneath 
was written, in her own handwriting, “I 
dreamed it.” 

Was it intended to represent the infant 
Jesus, whose birth we were celebrating, or an 
infant of the future? Marie’s dreams were apt 
to deal with coming events. Certain it is, a 
baby boy came to me the following June, and 


256 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


even then, the Christmas smiles had not left 
my lips. 

A more welcome gift, Heaven could not 
have bestowed. The fondest hopes of the 
Judge were realized. 

“He is the image of you, Frank,” he said, 
laying his hand caressingly on my shoulder. 

“No,” I replied, “the upper part of his face 
is yours, and the lower part mine. He has 
your brains. He will be a lawyer. Our little 
Gabriel will be a lawyer.” 

“Gabriel!” exclaimed the Judge, in astonish- 
ment. “Is that to be his name?” 

“Yes, with your approval,” I replied smil- 
ingly. “He will be the namesake of the angel 
Gabriel and of my old pastor, Gabriel Booth.” 

My husband indulged in an irreverent ex- 
pression which he supplemented with the re- 
mark, “Our boy to be named for an angel and 
a preacher?” 

“Of course; why not?” said I. “With the 
namesake of an angel and of a minister in the 
house, we don’t need to go to church at all!” 

“I give it up!” said the happy father, molli- 
fied by the hint; “let baby teach us religion.” 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


257 


So the child was christened according to my 
desire. 

Miss Gay was one of the first to congratulate 
me, in person, and she put the seal of her ap- 
proval on my choice of a name. “Thou hast 
done well,” she said; “I trust thou hast given 
him a nature as heavenly as the name thou 
hast bestowed." 

“I hope he will be as good as his name- 
sake," I replied, “but I don’t want him to be 
a minister. I want him to be a partner with 
us in the law. " 

“He may do good in any profession," said 
Miss Gay. “A spiritual nature will ever leap 
all barriers to accomplish its destiny." 

“But what if he does not possess a spiritual 
nature?" 

“Cultivate it — thee must cultivate it." 

“How can I?" 

“Keep him in the holy temple of love, and 
in the care of the great high priest, and with 
thy prayers stitch a little robe for him every 
year, the material of which shall be thy white 
example." 


258 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


“Oh, Miss Gay, if I only could — if I only 
could. ’ ’ 

“What is to hinder thee?” 

“I do not say my prayers.” 

“But thee prays. Every earnest desire of 
the heart for good is a prayer, but, if thy con- 
science tells thee to say thy prayers in the 
name of all that is good, say them. Stifle not 
thy conscience, and listen, listen for the still 
small voice. ’ ’ 

“The father said the babe is to lead us to 
religion,” I replied. “I am sure my instruc- 
tion began the moment he was put into my 
arms, for I was seized with a desire to ask 
God’s blessing upon him.” 

Miss Gay’s reply was interrupted by Bernie 
rushing into the room. She had been permitted 
to visit home for a vacation. 

“Oh, mamma, where is he?” she exclaimed, 
giving me a hasty kiss; “where is my little 
brother?” 

Next moment the babe was in her arms. 
“I’m afraid it will break all to pieces,” she 
said, as she held it with trembling solicitude. 

The infant was the youngest she had ever 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


259 


fondled, and Bernie was rather awkward, but 
at the risk of seeing the little fellow twisted 
into a corkscrew, I permitted her to indulge 
her sisterly caresses. 


17 


260 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER XLII. 

“Not without you,” was the decided reply 
the Judge had given my urgent request, that 
he would indulge himself in rest and recrea- 
tion in the mountains. 

Nurse had expressed the opinion that baby 
would thrive better at home in his own little 
crib, and I was inclined to yield to her judg- 
ment and remain in the city during the heated 
term. But the Judge was stubborn and Bernie 
pining for a change. Consequently, we again 
found ourselves hieing to the wilderness, 
baby, nurse and all. Three tents were pitched 
this time. Andy’s and ours were in the old 
spot, and one for nurse and the children mid- 
way between the two. 

In less than a week, Bernie had waded 
streams, caught fish and shot a bird. She had 
climbed every available tree within shouting 
distance, to demonstrate she could escape from 
bears, which Andy assured her were likely to 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


261 


attack her. Having thus obtained an inkling 
of Andy’s weakness, she had not neglected to 
growl horribly in the night watches, in close 
proximity to his tent. She made her indul- 
gent parents the victims of numberless practical 
jokes, and nurse was constantly on her guard 
against her pranks, having barely escaped 
strangulation from the salt in her drinking 
cup, which the madcap had failed to drop on a 
bird’s tail. The stern mandate of her father 
had been the means of insuring her little 
brother immunity from her serious interfer- 
ence, although she was suspected of imposing 
upon him sly caresses which he did not relish, 
and insisting that his noisy protest was the 
result of colic. Since catnip tea was the pan- 
acea for colic, Bernie, of course, held the baby 
while nurse made the tea. 

Judge Bennett and myself indulged in long 
boat rides and rambles, leaving the family to 
care for itself. Hand in hand we climbed the 
mountain sides and visited our old haunts, 
grottos and springs, moss-grown caves and 
vine-hung nooks. 

Ascending higher than had been our wont, 


262 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


the last day of our sojourn, we seated our- 
selves upon a peculiarly formed, stony ridge, 
which projected over a cradle-like indenture 
among the rocks, lying in dark shadow a few 
feet beneath. 

My husband was in his happiest and most 
affectionate mood. Laying his hand caressing- 
ly upon my shoulder, as he did so often, he 
said, “Frank, you have fulfilled every wish of 
my heart. ” 

Such movement as I made in answer to his 
loverly declaration, invited his caress, and he 
clasped me in his arms. No tongue can tell, 
no pen relate the deep happiness of that sacred 
hour. 

“Mine, forever mine,” were the words that 
were on his lips, when a slight rustling sound 
from the stony cradle beneath the ledge, drew 
our eyes to the spot. 

The Judge arose and peered down into the 
shadow. I looked over his stooping shoulder. 
We both saw a human face, white and pinched, 
with staring eyes, and a puckery mouth that 
seemed to be grinning at us. A busy little 
bird hopped about among the leaves and litter 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


263 


gathered there. I do not know which of us 
first recognized the features of the dead, but I 
was the first to cry out, “Madam Laureola.” 

“Yes,” said the Judge, solemnly, “I also 
knew her, but she went abroad before we were 
married, and I was not aware that she had re- 
turned/’ 

“I heard she was abroad,” I said. “What 
shall we do?” 

Without replying, the Judge let himself 
down into the basin where the body lay. He 
examined it carefully. 

“She must have been dead for days,” he 
said. “She must be removed and buried.” 

“What is that in her hand?” I questioned, as 
he turned away. 

He again stooped over the body and took 
from the stiffened fingers a rumpled paper, 
which he had not before observed. 

Bringing it up into the clear light, he un- 
folded it. A mortal paleness overspread his 
features, and he shivered visibly as he glanced 
over the words inscribed thereon. I held out 
my hand for it, and he gave it to me in 
silence. 


264 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


“Mine, forever mine” were the words I 
read, followed by the ominous declaration, 
“ In three years from the time you read this , my 
spirit will claim yours! ” 

“What does it mean?” said I. 

The Judge was still pale and silent. He 
mechanically moved a short distance away and 
sat down under a tree. 

“Sit by me, Frank; sit close, and I will tell 
you. If there is an immutable law in the uni- 
verse, it is the law of retribution. 1 It all seems 
like a dream, now,” he continued, “but this 
paper reminds me that I am dealing with 
stern reality. With all my fondest hopes real- 
ized, at the very acme of bliss, I am confront- 
ed with a wrong I perpetrated on one who 
never forgave me. We were both young. I 
was not yet twenty, and in the ignorance of 
youth I lost control of myself. I make no ex- 
cuse. 

“The girl was in the family, sewing for my 
mother, during one of my college vacations, 
and listened with credulity to my youthful 
love-making. She possessed remarkable char- 
acteristics, and these became more pronounced 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


265 


as she dwelt upon my desertion. Unceasingly 
she haunted my life and became known as 
Madam Laureola. I never allowed my wife 
to be left alone; she could not have borne the 
story I am telling you, from the lips now sealed 
in death. 

“You know, Madam Laureola was a clair- 
voyant and claimed mesmeric and necromantic 
power. Of these things, I know nothing, but 
she has always been the disturber of my peace, 
and I never rid myself of her persecutions until 
you became my wife. She then agreed to go 
abroad and not return, but said at the moment 
when our cup of bliss should be full, she would 
dash it from our lips, and ever afterward a pall 
would hang over me until she should claim my 
spirit. 

“I am not afraid of her," he said, drawing 
himself up; “for I am not superstitious, but I 
wish this had not happened. 

“Frank, have your feelings toward me 
changed?" he asked suddenly, looking down 
upon my drooping head. 

I knew not what reply to make, but desirous 
of soothing his mind, I said, “I did not love 


266 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


you in the past because I thought you perfect. 
I loved you because I loved you, and for that 
reason I love you still. ’ ’ 

I knew he was satisfied, for his caressing 
hand immediately found its way to my 
shoulder. 

“I hope there is nothing in this affair that 
can be brought into the courts, ’ ’ I said, laying 
my hand on his. “It would be awkward for 
you to appear as defendant in a murder case.” 

He started. “You have chosen the profes- 
sion in which you will succeed, Frank. I had 
not thought of that. You have put me on my 
guard. I will see to it that only the court in 
the beyond tries this case. ” 


THE WHITE FLAME 


267 


CHAPTER XLIII. 

Although the Judge had so decidedly reiter- 
ated that he was not superstitious, I discerned 
in him, from that time, unusual indications of 
restlessness. I was inclined to attribute this to 
the shock which the discovery of Madam Lau- 
reola’s body had given him, as well as to the 
implied threat in the writing taken from her 
hand. His manner, so foreign to his positive 
nature and steady nerves, gave me some un- 
easiness, but I hoped time would restore him 
to his wanted equilibrium. I peeped at him 
anxiously many times a day from behind the 
portieres in the office, which concealed me 
from view, and noticed he was abnormally 
startled at any sudden sound, and that he of- 
ten glanced over his shoulder as if hearing ap- 
proaching footsteps. 

As time passed, I became alarmed, and hop- 
ing a change would be beneficial, I proposed a 


268 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


trip abroad, without broaching my fears to 
him. 

“I should like to go to the south of France,” 
I said, “and spend the time in the study of 
law, until I am ready to be admitted to the 
bar. Society would have no demands on us 
there, baby would escape our cold winters, 
and by the time we return Bernie will be ready 
to graduate. ” 

“And what should I do?” inquired the 
Judge. 

“Take care of me and follow your favorite 
geological pursuits. You ought to live in the 
open. Four walls are too cramping for one of 
your temperament.” 

To my surprise the Judge readily acquiesced 
in my plans, and so soon as arrangements 
could be made, we proceeded on the journey 
to sunny France. 

Nothing of special importance to us occurred 
during our residence abroad, except the birth 
of a baby girl whose span of life ended the 
hour in which she was born. The wee waxen 
features were the exact counterpart of her 
papa’s, and he was greatly depressed on ac- 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


269 


count of the loss. His nervous symptoms 
which had given me so much uneasiness 
seemed more pronounced. 

I managed to keep him interested in my 
studies, and plead many imaginary cases be- 
fore him, to which he listened with indulgent 
tolerance. My aim was to bring a smile to his 
face and my argument always ended when I 
had accomplished my object. 

Our little Gabriel was walking and talking 
when the time came for us to return home. 
He had developed one remarkable trait. He 
refused to say his prayers. 

“No, no, no!” he would say, shaking his 
curly little head when I attempted to persuade 
him to repeat the simple petition beginning, 
“Now I lay me down to sleep.” 

By his stubborn refusal, I was reminded of 
my own delinquency. That my refusal to 
pray for Nathan had caused me to sin against 
the soul of my child, as well as my own soul, 
was a constant sorrow. I resolved with my 
whole heart to efface the impression thus un- 
consciously made. My love for the child 
amounted to idolatry. In him had I sounded 


270 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


the depths of a mother’s joy, and in him only 
could I sound the depths of a mother’s love. 

A letter from Bernie hastened our departure 
for New York. She wrote: “Be sure and 
come in time to see me graduate. It will be 
the happiest day of my life. I intend to marry 
as soon as I am out of school. Papa is to se- 
lect a husband for me from among the scores 
of young men who have been casting longing 
eyes toward the convent, lo, these many years. 
If you don’t come right home, I shall take my 
pick myself. ’ ’ 

“What does the child mean by such non- 
sense?” said the Judge. 

“Oh, nothing at all,” I replied; “it is the 
effervescence of youthful folly. She will be 
like a bird freed from a cage. We had better 
sail on the first steamer. ’ ’ 

In a few weeks we had the pleasure of see- 
ing our wild little Bernie numbered among a 
dozen or more sweet girl graduates. She 
stood somewhat in awe of her papa, and gave 
him no occasion to criticize her conduct in his 
presence, but with me her freedom was un- 
trammeled. Her voluble tongue was rather 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


271 


encouraged than checked, for I fully realized 
that a mother is the only safe receptacle for a 
daughter’s confidence. 

“I have an admirer already, mamma,” she 
said, coming in from a walk, flushed with ex- 
citement and exercise. “He is the brother of 
Maude Green, who graduated in our class, and 
he heard my valedictory. She introduced us, 
and he wants to call on me. Isn’t that jolly? 
It’s something to have a chance to speak to a 
nice young man after being shut up in a con- 
vent for nearly a lifetime. I declare, mamma, 
I shall never be happy until I am introduced 
into society.” 

“You know we shall soon go to my mother’s 
for the summer,” said I, “and you may find it 
a little dull, for poor Marie is confined to her 
chair all the time.” 

“I shall go out by myself,” replied the will- 
ful girl. “I’m going to have a good time 
wherever I go. I’ve been shut up long 
enough. If I can’t go anywhere else, I will go 
to prayer-meeting and make faces at the min- 
ister.” 

I smiled when I thought of Bernie's making 


272 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


faces at Mr. Booth, and she, encouraged by 
my evident amusement, continued her giddy 
remarks. 

“I worried the good father’s soul pretty near 
out of him, at the convent, pretending I 
wanted to confess. I told the girls I was more 
than half in love with him and meant to take 
the veil because he couldn’t marry me.” 

“Why are you so anxious to marry?’’ I 
asked. 

“O, for a change!” said the young lady, 
saucily. “I’m not going to marry for love, for 
then I should do everything my husband wanted 
me to do, and I’m determined to have my own 
way. I never have had it. I have always been 
kept in leading strings, and I don’t like it. I 
want to be free. ’ ’ 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


273 


CHAPTER XLIV. 

Before leaving for mamma’s home, I was 
admitted to the bar, and gaily assured the 
Judge I would be ready to practice on my re- 
turn. The only answer he made was to lay his 
hand fondly upon my shoulder. I looked into 
his face and saw an expression which startled 
me. 

“What is it?” I asked. 

“Nothing; nothing at all, Frank. Some- 
times of late, I have been seized with a strange 
foreboding which I do not understand, for you 
know, I am not superstitious. ’ ’ 

I had not forgotten that it would be exactly 
three years the last day of the coming summer 
since he had taken the paper from the hand of 
the dead, on which was written the ominous 
words: “In three years from the time you read 
this my spirit will claim yours. ’ ’ 

Like the Judge, I was unconscious that 
superstition lurked within my nature, and 


274 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


scarcely realizing- how close was my sympathy 
with his emotions, I said with a wave of my 
hand, “Give forebodings to the wind; to in- 
dulge them is to invite sorrow!” 

In making preparations for our summer trip, 
my husband was particular that I should know 
all the details of his business, and arranged 
everything with great precision, evento the 
writing of his will. Some impending danger 
seemed constantly in his mind, and I was glad 
when we were fairly started on the trip to 
mamma’s. 

Bernie was in high glee all the way and kept 
us in such good spirits that we almost forgot 
the shadowy thing which had unconsciously 
haunted us so long. 

Mamma’s household, exclusive of the serv- 
ants, had narrowed down to four, Marie, Mr. 
Booth, Mr. Gale and William. These all gave 
us a royally warm welcome, and I settled 
down in my old room, where Bernie, Gabriel 
and nurse usually came to discuss family mat- 
ters. 

Judge Bennett received a telegram soon after 
our arrival, announcing the sudden illness of 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


275 


his partner, and returned without delay. It 
was the first time we had been separated since 
our marriage, and neither of us was reconciled 
to the dispensation. He promised to return at 
an early date or send for me, so I made the 
best of the situation and engaged in a round 
of visits among my old friends, for whose ben- 
efit little Gabriel was on exhibition most of 
the time. 

Longing to be relieved of petticoats, he had 
a habit of trimming his skirts to the waist and 
strutting about in his drawers. Stubbornly 
he refused to engage in devotional exercises, 
nor did he until Marie undertook his case. She 
told him sweet little stories of beautiful angels 
listening to little boys who said their prayers, 
but he only shook his head and said “No, no . 99 

One day, Mr. Booth came into Marie’s room, 
and lifted the child to his knee, patting his 
head and calling him a good little boy. 

“No, no, Gabel bad, Gabel won’t say pay- 
ers,’’ replied the little fellow, looking re- 
proachfully at Marie. 

“Bring him to me, Mr. Booth,’’ said Marie, 


276 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


with tears in her eyes, “I want to kiss him, for 
I love him and the angels love him.” 

“I’ll say my payers, Aunt Mawee,” said Ga- 
briel, relenting for the first time as he received 
her tearful caress. “I’ll say my payers for 
you and the andels. ’ ’ 

Love overcometh all things. Bernie looked 
admiringly from Marie to Mr. Booth. 

“It took a saint and an angel to bring my 
stubborn little brother to terms,” she said af- 
terward in the privacy of my room, “and I 
shall call one Saint Marie, and the other the 
Angel. ’ ’ 

“Does Mr. Booth impress you as being so 
good?” I asked. Bernie blushed. 

“He impresses me as being too good for this 
world or for anybody in it,” she replied. 
“That’s the worst ofc it. I would as soon think 
of making faces at a divine being, as at his 
majesty and beauty. You have brought me 
here to associate with saints and angels, and 
I’m not ready for it until I get to heaven.” 

“It has always seemed to me that you 
greatly admired good people. ’ ’ 

“Indeed, I do, mamma. There is nothing I 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


277 


admire so much as goodness. I admired Sister 
Agathe at the convent because she was so good, 
and the father also. I would not want to live 
in the world if there was no goodness here, 
but I used to think, when I was fettered there 
with my books and prayers, I would like a 
change, not to absolute badness, but to a little 
more worldly freedom, and here I am in the 
strait-jacket of goodness still.” 

‘‘Try to be patient a little longer, ” I said, 
‘‘and you shall have all the gayety you desire. ” 

“I may not want it by that time,” replied 
the impatient girl, with a faint sigh. ‘‘Summer 
days are long, and the lives of butterflies are 
short. How do we know what may happen 
between now and winter?” 

‘‘That reminds me,” I said, ‘‘that you have 
not a good portrait of yourself, and while your 
papa is away, Mr. Gale might paint one. ” 

‘‘If he could make one of me as beautiful as 
Saint Marie’s, I would consent,” said Bernie, 
glancing at herself in the mirror opposite. 

‘‘Your papa would be delighted with a por- 
trait of you in your graduating gown.” 

‘‘Anything to please papa and put Old Sober- 


278 THE WHITE FLAME. 

sides on his mettle,” was the careless answer, 
and the matter was settled. 

‘‘Old Sobersides” was Bernie’s appropriate 
appellation for Mr. Gale. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


279 


CHAPTER XLV. 

“Where is Gabriel?” I asked the nurse, as I 
was about to go to dinner. 

“In the minister’s study, ma’am. The min- 
ister asked for him.” 

In passing, I heard my little son’s voice min- 
gling with Mr. Booth’s, and to give them a 
surprise, I tiptoed toward the open study door, 
where I saw them without being seen. Mr. 
Booth sat in a position to give me a side view 
of his face, and of Gabriel’s who was clasped 
in his arms. He was straining the child to his 
breast and kissing him rapturously. Gabriel 
seemed pleased with the passionate embrace, 
and when let loose, threw his arms around his 
friend’s neck, crying, “I love oo better than 
papa. ’ ’ 

Again Mr. Booth showered kisses and ca- 
resses upon him, murmuring as he held the 
little face in his hands, “So like her, so like 
her.” 


280 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


I knew not whether to retreat or advance, 
but the child chanced to turn his head and 
spied me. 

“Mamma, turn and see Mr. Booth div me a 
Stoch (Scotch) tiss!” 

I went to the door. Mr. Booth arose, his face 
aglow, with Gabriel still in his arms. “I have 
been having a farewell interview with my lit- 
tle namesake,” he said. “I expect to start on 
my vacation to-morrow, and may not return 
before you leave.” 

“Is it possible! Going so soon? I thought 
we would see Mr. Turner about the antique 
chair before you left. ’ ’ 

“I was at his house last night,” said Mr. 
Booth, “and the man in charge said he had 
gone to England, having been suddenly sum- 
moned on account of the death of a relative.” 

“Iam so sorry,” I said, “for it was my in- 
tention to make him an offer for the chair, that 
he would be apt to accept. Would you be wil- 
ling to act as my agent in the matter when he 
returns?” 

“Certainly,” replied Mr. Booth. “But I 
have very little hope of changing his decision, 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


281 


not to part with it. The First Owner might 
have some influence with him, however, as 
Turner said he told him he was desirous of 
making further communications to you. Per- 
haps you might regain possession of the chair, 
for a time, by agreeing to return it. I myself 
made overtures to him of that character, 
that I might test more fully for my own satis- 
faction the remarkable phenomenon of which 
you and Turner have told me. It seems there 
must be a hallucination connected with it, cal- 
culated to convince the most unbelieving in 
spirit manifestations. From what I have heard 
of spiritualistic seances, I should say my sitting 
with Turner and through him receiving infor- 
mation from the First Owner of the chair, con- 
cerning my ancestors, is very like consulting a 
medium — or rather like one under mesmeric 
influence. ' ’ 

“But I was not under mesmeric influence, 
Mr. Booth, when the First Owner appeared to 
me.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Why, of course. Who was there to mes- 
merize me?” 


282 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


“The chair. Some claim that to look fixedly 
on an object which has been manipulated by a 
mesmerist, will put certain people into a mes- 
meric sleep, or in a condition in which the mind 
is active, and discerns things not apparent to 
it, in its normal state.” 

“If that theory could be established,” I said, 
“then mesmeric or other occult influences 
might.be imparted to all furniture. When 
Marie was a little girl, she insisted that 
sitting in different chairs gave her impressions 
of the characteristics of those who previously 
occupied them. She could readily select the 
chair in which you had last been seated. ’ ’ 

“That carries the matter beyond my compre- 
hension,” said Mr. Booth. “She must possess 
a sense more acute than the scent of a blood- 
hound, to be able to make such discoveries.” 

“She used to call it her mind smelling. But 
Mr. Booth, returning to the subject of our dis- 
cussion, I assure you I did not look fixedly at 
the chair, as you suggested. I saw the First 
Owner in it many times as plainly as I see you. 
I have proof that some of the things he told 
me are true, and I believe they are all true. ’ ’ 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


283 


Mr. Booth smiled. “I think if I owned the 
chair, and a spirit should seem to appear in it 
and talk to me, I would doubt the evidence of 
my senses, and conclude I was laboring under 
a delusion. ” 

“You are like Thomas,” I replied, “who 
would not believe that Jesus appeared to the 
other disciples, after his crucifixion, until he 
told him to thrust his hand into his side, where 
the spear had pierced him.” 

“That was an exceptional case,” said Mr. 
Booth. “If in the future scientific investiga- 
tion shall demonstrate the possibility that the 
spirit of the owner of a chair may return and 
occupy it for generations after leaving the body, 
I will be better prepared to believe what now 
seems to me a hallucination. ” 

Mr. Booth’s tone was so tolerant and sincere 
that I began to wonder if it were possible my 
imagination had played me false, or that some 
mysterious influence had emanated from the 
inanimate object, and I was silent. 

“You know I do not question your sincer- 
ity,” said Mr. Booth, with delicate tact, “it is 


284 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


simply a question in my mind as to the possi- 
bility that you may have been deceived in the 
matter. I noticed a peculiar expression on the 
face of Turner as I sat by him before the chair, 
and it has since occurred to me that he might 
have been in a clairvoyant state, and his com- 
munications came from my own mind, which 
was before fully established in all he said, 
instead of that of the First Owner. As I have 
intimated, I am not sure I would be satisfied if 
I were to own the chair and pass through an 
experience similar to yours, although our fam- 
ily coat-of-arms carved upon it, indicates that 
it was once the property of my ancestors.” 

‘‘I hope the property of your illustrious 
ancestor will some day be yours and then we 
will see what you will do,” I said. 

‘‘I shall leave it to you in my will,” was the 
reply. 

‘‘O, Mr. Booth, how cruel! You know you 
will outlive me. ’ ’ 

“I hope not,” was his calm reply, as he 
turned toward Gabriel, who had slipped from 
his arms and was tugging at the skirt of his 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


285 


coat, vociferating lustily, “Turn, Mr. Booth, 
dinner is weady. The bell has wung. ” 

I advanced to the dining-room, Mr. Booth 
following with the child. 


286 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER XLVI. 

Judge Bennett returned unexpectedly. It 
was a flying visit. He had but a day to re- 
main, as his partner had not yet recovered 
sufficiently to warrant leaving him for a longer 
period. I was in raptures at seeing him and 
was impatient when he was out of my sight for 
a moment. 

Bernie declared poutingly, that I was selfish 
to appropriate him so entirely to myself, but 
Gabriel scarcely noticed him after his first 
greeting. The child was more interested in 
Mr. Booth’s preparations for his departure, the 
packing of a trunk attracted him more than 
the society of his parents who were absorbed in 
each other. 

The Judge did not seem to notice the child’s 
infatuation until the moment of Mr. Booth’s 
adieux. We were in the parlor when he ap- 
proached with Gabriel at his heels. His hand- 
shaking with the Judge over, he extended the 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


287 


same courtesy to me ; but Gabriel was not sat- 
isfied. 

“Tiss mamma, Mr. Booth, tiss mamma!” 

I saw a gleam of fire in my husband’s eyes 
as Mr. Booth, with a flush on his face, stooped 
over the child to give him a parting caress. 
But Gabriel would not let him go. He clung 
to him with tears and sobs until it became 
necessary to call the nurse to take him away, 
and, although resisting her with all his might, 
he was borne kicking and screaming from the 
room. His papa was disturbed. 

“The child must be disciplined,” he said. 
“He is old enough to be taught better. ” 

“He is like his papa,” I replied, “very affec- 
tionate and slightly obstinate.” 

A ghost of a smile passed over the features 
of the Judge, which was followed by a shadow. 
He laid his hand upon my shoulder. 
“Frank,” he said, “if I were to die, would you 
marry again?” 

“No! never!” 

“Are you sure?” There was a ring of satis- 
faction in his tone. 

“Quite sure,” and I added a tender epithet. 


288 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


I knew the assurance pleased the Judge, for 
the position of his hand on my shoulder indi- 
cated as much. I had learned to read his mind 
through the impressions his touch gave me, 
which varied with his emotions. 

Our backs being toward the door, Bernie had 
entered and heard what had been said for my 
ear alone, but she wisely refrained from allud- 
ing to it in the presence of her papa. 

After he had left for New York, however, 
she freely mentioned the matter to me, and 
“wondered what possessed papa/’ 

“He acted as if he thought he were about to 
die,” said she, “and he looked sideways like a 
person expecting something he dreaded. Any- 
way, he is not like my beautiful papa, and I 
would like to know what is the matter with 
him. If you know, mamma, I wish you would 
tell me.” 

Madame Laureola’s face, which we had seen 
in the stone cradle, high up the mountain side, 
arose before me, and I was silent in contempla- 
tion of the great mystery. 

“I believe you know,” she cried, looking 
eagerly into my face; “is trouble coming?” 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


289 


“Why should trouble come?” I replied. 
“Your papa is in perfect health and his affairs 
are prosperous. No trouble ought to come to 
us.” 

“Of course it ought not,” said Bernie, with 
light hearted reassurance. “I presume papa 
was worried at leaving us. He is so devoted 
to you, mamma. I am almost jealous of you.” 

“His heart is large enough for both, Bernie. 
Don’t permit yourself to indulge in jealousy.” 

“How can I help it, mamma?” 

“Just as you control anger or any wrong feel- 
ing. When it comes, use all your will power 
to banish it.” 

“Mr. Booth says we must pray.” 

“That is right — pray. Prayer will divert 
your mind from wrong thinking, and a blessing 
follow the sincere desire for good in your 
heart. ’ ’ 

“You think so, mamma? I am surprised ! I 
imagined you and papa never prayed, and won- 
dered why you wanted Gabriel taught to say 
prayers. I have not said a prayer since I left 
the convent myself, and I have my mamma’s 
beautiful prayer-book too. She was not a 


290 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


Roman Catholic ; she was an Episcopalian, you 
know. Which religion do you think is the true 
religion?” 

‘‘True religion, Bernie, is to love God with 
all your heart, and your neighbor as yourself.” 

‘‘Oh, dear! I’m afraid I never shall have true 
religion, for I never can love my neighbor as 
myself, and I never can love God with all my 
heart. I shall always love myself, I am sure, 
a little better than anything else.” 

“If you love good, Bernie, you love God, for 
all goodness is of God, and if you love others 
beside yourself, you love your neighbor ; but it 
is only by cultivation that these traits will gain 
the ascendency in your character and life. ' ’ * 

“How may I cultivate goodness, mamma?” 

“Love is the purifying flame that consumes 
selfishness — deep, deep love that is born of the 
divine in man.” 

“Oh, I can love,” said Bernie, with a queer 
grimace. “I know I can love, but the trouble 
with me is, it is not always the good that I 
love.” 

“That is the trouble with us all,” I replied. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


291 


“I have only theorized, but Mr. Booth and 
Marie live the truth. ’’ 

“Oh, I couldn’t follow Mr. Booth’s example 
and give away all I have, and devote all my 
time to doing good. No, indeed; people might 
suffer before I would do that; neither would I 
spend my time as Marie does in cuddling up 
sick children with flowers and broths. Tell 
me something easier I may do.’’ 

“Would it be'basier for you to array yourself 
in a beautiful gown and drive to church, wor- 
ship on your knees from your gold-clasped 
prayer-book, bow at the altar for holy com- 
munion, give generous heed to the offertory, 
and regulate your conduct according to church 
rules?’’ 

“Indeed it would, mamma. I could do those 
things, but I don’t think I could enjoy being 
good in any other way. I certainly could not 
do good for the sake of being good as Mr. 
Booth and Marie do. They are natural saints 
and I am not, any more than you are. ’ ’ 

Bernie’s last thoughtless remark cut me to 
the quick, for it indicated that in her opinion, 
my religious convictions were on a level with 

19 


292 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


hers, while I flattered myself they were on a 
higher plane. Bernie noticed my abstraction, 
and construing it to mean displeasure, she 
hastened to explain. “I did not mean to say, 
mamma, that you are not better than I am, for 
I know you are a thousand times better, but I 
meant in kind we are the same, as is also papa, 
but not in measure. We are none of us willing 
to do as Mr. Booth preached about Jesus doing, 
and in fact, I don’t see many people who are.” 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


293 


CHAPTER XLVII. 

Summer was far advanced when Judge Ben- 
nett came to take us home. Our prophetic 
dreamer, Marie, saw a vision, the secret of 
which she confided to my keeping, with many 
sighs. In spite of my efforts to banish all 
superstitious feelings, my mind was strangely 
affected by it. 

Marie said, “I saw in my dream a galaxy of 
stars, swinging in space, and every star was as 
large as the moon, and had a human face. I 
thought all the angels in heaven were looking 
through them at the people in this world. 
Stars swung in a great glistening arch stretch- 
ing as far as I could see, and other stars from 
all directions came and joined the company. 
The air was full of music. It came from the 
arch, and the single floating stars answered 
back, just as mamma and I used to trill to each 
other when she wanted me from my play. Oh, 
it was a glorious sight ! So white and light ! 


294 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


Whiter and brighter than sun shining on snow ! 
At times a single star would float out into 
space, as if attracted by another, and the two 
stars would drift away together. I did not see 
a single face clearly — they were all so far away 
— but at last one came so near that I saw the 
features distinctly, and it seemed to be hover- 
ing over this house. It had a queer drawey 
mouth, and its bright eyes were looking toward 
an approaching object; so I looked that way, 
and saw Judge Bennett coming. He turned 
into a star and went off with the star that 
seemed to be waiting for him. Just as the 
whole scene was slowly vanishing, William 
appeared before me, with his arms outstretched 
toward the stars, and I was so afraid that he 
would turn into a star and join them that I 
screamed and awoke. * ’ 

“What can the dream mean?” she said after 
a short pause, a slight tremor discernible in 
her tone. 

“O, nothing!” I replied, carelessly, trying in 
vain to throw off my own unpleasant impres- 
sions, and reassure her “unless it means Wil- 
liam is reaching after the honors that would 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


295 


make him a star in his profession as Judge Ben- 
nett is in his. You know William is very 
ambitious. * ’ 

“He is ambitious for my sake," said Marie, 
a faint flush mounting her pale cheek, while 
the frill of lace around her fair throat was 
shaken with the excess of her girlish emotions. 

“Are you still so devoted to William?" I 
asked, with a view of drawing from her an ex- 
pression of her affection for him which I knew 
existed in her heart. But true womanly re- 
serve had grown within her and she hesitated 
before answering. 

“You remember how silly I used to be about 
him, but I have grown older now, and, I hope, 
more sensible, although I am still foolish about 
him, as you can see. I don’t want him to leave 
us and go to the stars. I hope my dream did 
not mean that we are to lose him or the 
Judge.” 

“For God’s sake!" I exclaimed, “don’t speak 
of it; the bare suggestion is torture to me." 

Our long conversation had wearied Marie, 
and she rested her head against the back of her 
chair, her stray locks of gold glinting against 


296 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


the crimson cushion. Her eyelids quivered 
and tears rolled from beneath them. 

“I can’t help it,” she said in a broken voice, 
‘‘that dream makes my heart ache dreadfully. ” 

I arose and went to the window. Judge 
Bennett and William were approaching in the 
distance. William was a splendid specimen of 
physical manhood, nearly as tall as the Judge, 
but lacking his distinguished air. 

“They are coming,” I said — “the Judge and 
William — and neither of them look like leaving 
us for the stars. ’ ’ 

Marie lifted her head and turned to see 
them. 

“How strong and grand they are,” she said, 
brushing the tears from her face, “it doesn’t 
seem as if they could ever die.” 

“It is not likely they will for many years,” I 
replied, resolutely ignoring the haunting fear 
that beset me as a result of Madam Laureola’s 
dreadful threat. I had long doubted if the 
mysterious writing was really intended for 
him, but when I ventured to suggest it, Judge 
Bennett promptly replied, “She meant it for 


me. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


297 


But a change had come, and he was in the 
best of health and spirits. As they ascended 
the steps, I noticed his usually firm steady step 
was almost buoyant. They were evidently 
discussing the political situation, and in Will- 
iam’s resonant voice, he said, “If Horace 
Greeley and the rest of the fanatics keep this 
up, there will be a fight.’’ 

Marie caught the word fight, and was at once 
alarmed. 

“Did he say he’d been fighting, ’’ she said. 

Before I could answer, they appeared in the 
open door. William heard Marie’s question, 
and laughed good-naturedly. 

“No, Marie, I have not been fighting this 
time. I have only been threatening. How 
would you like to see me the general of an 
army?” 

I did not catch Marie’s low reply, as the 
Judge and I started to our room. “William is 
a promising youth,’’ said he “and has the mak- 
ing of a man in him, but it is strange he is so 
devoted to Marie when there is no hope of her 
ever being able to rise from her chair. 


298 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


“His is the true love,” I said, “he gives all 
and asks for nothing in return.” 

“I understand it,” said the Judge. “I would 
rather have you in Marie’s condition than not 
to have you at all.” 

We had entered our room and the Judge 
closed the door. 

“This looks like breaking up,” he said, 
glancing at the articles of clothing that were 
strewn about, ready for the trunks. 

“Yes; we go day after to-morrow, you 
know. ’ ’ 

“None too soon, Frank. I don’t exactly 
like the way things look between the artist 
Gale and Bernie. He has made a fine portrait 
of her, but that is all we want of him. ” 

“Of course! I, too, am ambitious for Ber- 
nie. She shall have a brilliant send-off next 
winter, and the young men she will meet will 
make her forget she ever saw Mr. Gale. She 
is very impressionable, and will probably dip 
her feet a number of times into love’s pellucid 
pool, before she takes the final plunge.” 

My husband laid his hand tenderly on my 
shoulder. “You imagine Bernie is like her 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


299 


father, but God forbid that like him she should 
thoughtlessly bring life-long remorse upon 
herself. ” 

“Don’t speak of it!’’ I replied. “It is all 
over now. Let the memory of the past mis- 
take be buried with Madam Laureola. ’’ 

“Although not superstitious,” said the 
Judge, “I was relieved when the day of doom, 
which she predicted, had passed.’’ 

“Why, you have forgotten!’’ I thoughtlessly 
replied. ‘ ‘ It will be three years to-morrow fore- 
noon since you took the paper from her hand. 
Do you not remember, it was the last day of 
summer?’’ 

The Judge took out his note- book and stud- 
ied it carefully. 

“Sure enough! You are correct. I had mis- 
calculated. To-morrow then will be the day 
on which the madam’s prediction that her 
spirit will return and claim another will prove 
true or false ; it also remains to be seen whose 
spirit she will claim.’’ 

“It will not be yours,’’ I declared with em- 
phasis; “it will not be yours.’’ 


300 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER XLVIII. 

“Papa! Where’s papa this last day of sum- 
mer, and this last day of our visit, too?” cried 
Bernie, peering into the room where mamma 
and I were chatting. 

“Will nobody answer?” said the intruder, 
impatiently. “I’ve found a wonderful stone 
in a hole Gabriel dug under a rose bush. I’m 
sure it will interest papa. He knows so much 
about geology. It may be a petrifaction; a 
petrified fairy, you know. It has a sort of a 
face with a queer drawey little mouth, that 
seemed to be grinning up at us as it lay in the 
sun. Would you like to see it, mamma?” 

“Not just now, Bernie; I left your papa in 
the library reading the paper.” 

Bernie went in search of him. 

Truth is, my superstitious fears were an- 
swerable for the Judge denying himself his 
morning stroll. All night I had grappled 
with an awful premonition of evil which I 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


301 


could not master, and morning still found me 
fighting the mysterious force. Madam Laure- 
ola’s written words passed and re-passed be- 
fore my eyes in letters of fire, while darkness 
lasted, and the welcome sunlight gave but lit- 
tle relief. I was, however, able to nerve my- 
self to give no sign of the conflict in the pres- 
ence of the Judge, who, I alone could see, was 
not in a comfortable frame of mind. : He had 
taken his hat to go out when I called his atten- 
tion to the morning paper, which, strangely 
enough, he had not read directly after break- 
fast, as was his habit. 

“My dear,” I said, as he seated himself, 
“may I go with you when you take your 
walk?” 

He answered hesitatingly, “It has just oc- 
curred to me that I should write some letters 
this morning; would afternoon suit you as 
well?” 

“Better,” I replied, “for I have still some 
preparations to make for our journey.” 

“Yes, my journey!” he remarked absently, 
and began glancing down the newspaper, while 
I went to the room where Bernie found me. 


302 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


Bernie had been gone but a short time, when 
mamma and I heard piercing shrieks from the 
library. 

“It is Bernie; what can have happened?’* 
exclaimed mamma, rushing toward the stair- 
way. I attempted to follow, but for an instant 
was unable to take a step. “Mamma!” 
I faintly called, but she heard not, and the 
sound of flying footsteps with Bernie’s pro- 
longed screaming, effected a quick reaction. 
My courage returned, and I was in the library 
scarcely a moment behind her. 

There sat the Judge in an easy chair, with 
staring eyes, and face of ashen hue. He 
grasped in his hand the thing Bernie had found 
under the rose bush. 

He was dead! All efforts to resuscitate him 
were in vain. He had gone from us, never- 
more to return in the flesh ! 

When Bernie recovered from her terrible 
experience sufficiently to relate what had oc- 
curred during his last moments, her communi- 
cation surprised me. 

“I would not tell it to anyone else,” she 
said; “but papa acted so strangely when I 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


303 


gave him the stone. He asked, ‘Where did 
you get it?’ and when I said, ‘Under the rose- 
bush, ’ he groaned and began to breathe hard 
and roll up his eyes and turn pale. I was 
dreadfully frightened, and when he said, ‘Call 
mamma, ’ I began to scream for you to come, 
for I dared not leave him. He never spoke 
again, but looked up to the last and held the 
stone tight in his hand.” 

“What became of the stone?” 

“Your mamma has it. I never want to see 
it again ; it would only remind me of the way 
I lost papa.” 

I was anxious to see the stone, but when I 
asked mamma about it, she replied, “Dr. Jones 
has it, and when he returns it, I will give it to 
you. It is a strangely interesting specimen of 
petrifaction. ” 

In a confidential conversation with Marie, 
however, I learned something more about the 
stone. She was deeply stirred by the tragic 
death. “I wonder,” she said, laying her hand 
tenderly on my arm, “if my star dream will 
come as true in William’s case as it has with 
the Judge. I am sure now, it meant the Judge 


304 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


would go away beyond the stars, and, O, what 
would I do, if William should go, too!” 

“I had forgotten the dream, Marie, but it is 
not at all likely that it was a warning.” 

“O, yes, I’m sure it was,” she said, confi- 
dently, “for I saw the stone which the Judge 
held in his hand when he was called away. 
Bernie showed it to me when she first found it. 
She said she was going to show it to her papa, 
but she did not know where he was. It looked 
like a stone doll, and when I turned it over in 
my hand, I thought of my dream, for the face 
had a queer little screwy mouth, just like that 
of the star, with which the Judge disappeared. ” 
Marie again referred to William. Her solic- 
itude for him was overpowering. It seemed to 
pervade her every thought. 

“Judge Bennett,” said she, “had planned to 
give William every advantage in the study of 
his art. He was to have gone abroad, and 
Mr. Gale said would return a great artist. ’ ’ 
“William shall go abroad for study, if he so 
desires,” I promptly responded. “If he can 
not go with the Judge, he shall by himself, 
and perhaps the spirit of his departed friend 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


305 


will be permitted to watch over him for good 
when the broad ocean shall separate you." 

“I dread having* him go away, even for a 
few years," said Marie, with a sigh. 


306 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER XLIX. 

Marie’s remark elicited no reply from me. 
I was wondering, as we sat there in the 
silence, how long I should be separated from 
him whose body lay in its last sleep, under the 
same roof with us! 

The house was still as the grave. Every 
one moved softly and spoke in undertones. 
Even Gabriel’s childish prattle was hushed, 
for his curly head was closely nestled on his 
pillow for the night. 

Suddenly the doorbell rang sharply. We 
heard running to and fro, and presently deep 
groans fell upon our ears. 

“It is William,” cried Marie, in a terrified 
voice. “Oh, what has happened?” 

“I will see,” I said, groping my way out of 
the now dark room. 

I found William in mamma’s private parlor, 
stretched upon a sofa, surrounded by the men 
who had brought him home. Great drops of 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


307 


blood and perspiration rolled from his brow, 
which mamma was wiping away. He was 
breathing heavily. 

From one of the men I learned that he had 
been shot while defending a young girl against 
the attack of two ruffians, one of whom had 
thus wreaked his vengeance upon him. 

Just as I turned away to break the sad news 
to my poor sister, William opened his eyes and 
feebly gasped, “Marie.” 

Two of the men who had so kindly brought 
William to his friends, placed Marie’s chair 
beside him. He saw her, and a satisfied 
expression passed over his drawn features. 

“Marie,” he faltered, “forgive me, and care 
for the poor girl I tried to save. ’ ’ 

His words were followed by a faint gurgle 
in his throat, and he passed away. 

Marie lost consciousness, and in that condi- 
tion was carried to her room. When her 
swoon had passed, I was bending over her, 
bathing her brow. 

“I believe I have been asleep,” she said, 
with a questioning look and a long drawn 

sigh. 

20 


308 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


I kissed her, and, taking her hand in mine, 
sat down beside her. My lips were dumb. 

Just then mamma came in, and seeing that 
Marie had recovered, she tenderly stroked her 
head. “Poor child,” she said, “God will sus- 
tain you.” 

Marie uttered a sharp low cry. 

“I remember it all now. William is dead. 
Oh, how can I bear it!” 

Mamma looked pitifully at both of us. 
“Weep together, my dear children, ” she said 
and left us alone. 

But neither of us could weep. We sat star- 
ing into each other’s dry eyes far into the 
night, while we talked of our loved and lost. 

I rehearsed the meager facts I had learned 
of William’s encounter with his murderer, and 
Marie’s only comment was, “He gave his life 
for a poor girl and he asked me to care for 
her.” 

“It was a noble act,” I said, “and William 
was a hero to imperil his life for a stranger.” 

“If you were to praise him ever so much it 
would not bring him back,” said the heart- 
broken girl. “If only I could pour out my 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


309 


heart in praise of him. When I told him my 
star dream I warned him to be careful ; I told 
him how precious he was to me, and he said he 
was not more precious to me than I was to 
him. He said he knew he would some day 
find a doctor who could cure me. Some of the 
things he said are too sacred to repeat, even to 
you, Frank, but I can not stop talking about 
him. I know if I stop, I shall die. I know 
you are thinking of the Judge every moment I 
am talking of William, but you can keep your 
thoughts to yourself and I can not. I must 
think aloud to-night. I just feel that I must.” 

I tenderly pressed Marie’s trembling hand. 
“I know how you feel.” 

“0, no,” she replied. “You don’t know 
how I feel, and I don’t know how you feel, but 
we both know we have lost the dearest thing 
in life to us. ” 

“We shall find our loved ones again,” I said, 
as much to encourage my fainting heart as to 
comfort Marie. 

My words awakened in her distracted mind 
new and painful thoughts. 

“Where, oh, where shall I find William?” she 


310 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


exclaimed, with passionate earnestness. I had 
not thought of it before but now recollected 
William had not been baptized into the church. 

She fell back clenching her hands and her 
features twitched spasmodically. She was in 
throes of agony for the life of William’s soul. 
I thought of him who hung upon the cross, 
and my thought involuntarily found expression 
in words to which Marie listened. What was 
Marie’s love for William when compared with 
Christ’s love for the world — He who was lifted 
up that He might draw all men unto Him. 
Would William be left out? 

“Oh, if he is,’*’ exclaimed Marie, “I want 
to go where he is. Heaven would not be 
heaven without him. I would go to hell if he 
were there!’’ 

“So would Jesus,’’ I replied. “His love for 
the world would take him to hell to rescue it, 
if it were there. Trust His love and mercy, 
Marie, and take courage; William will meet 
you.’’ 

Marie’s muscles relaxed and assumed their 
normal condition. 

“You comfort me, Frank. But I wish Mr. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


311 


Booth was here to verify your words, which are 
so sweet to me. You know, Frank, since you 
stopped saying your prayers, and attend church 
so seldom, I have been afraid you would go to 
the bad place, and I could not depend upon 
your religion. You don’t know how I have 
prayed for you and William.” 

‘‘Your prayers will be answered, you little 
saint. Keep on praying for us. Pray that 
William’s soul may find rest in the bosom of its 
God — if it has not already — and pray that my 
soul may find rest also in the bosom of its 
Father. Pray for the speedy salvation of all 
souls. ” 

‘‘Why will you not pray, Frank, as you tell 
me?” 

‘‘Because — because — I will tell you some 
other time, Marie. You are exhausted now, 
and should sleep.” 

“Oh, how can I sleep when William lies dead 
in the house?” 


312 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER L. 

From my window the next day I saw a shab- 
bily dressed young girl walk past the house in 
a troubled, embarrassed way. She stopped at 
the gate, put her hand on the latch, but did 
not lift it. She passed on — returned and stood 
before the gate. This time she lifted the latch, 
but allowed it to fall. She passed on, and 
again returned. But the third time there was 
an air of determination about her, and she 
entered, slamming the gate behind her, as if to 
keep her courage up, and resolutely approached 
the door. 

Mr. Gale, whose friendly services had been 
invaluable in our hours of trial, answered the 
bell. The few words passing between himself 
and the visitor, whom I supposed to be a beg- 
gar, reached my listening ear. 

“May I see the young man that died here 
last night?” she asked in an agitated voice. 

“Who are you?” was Mr. Gale’s reply. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


313 


“I’m the girl he fit to save, ’ ’ was her answer. 

He took her to the room where William’s 
body lay shrouded for the tomb. “Here,” I 
said, was a providential opportunity to gratify 
the desire Marie had expressed, of becoming 
acquainted with the person commended to her 
care by her lost friend. 

As I softly entered the room, the girl stood 
in her rags and tatters, bending sorrowfully 
over the body of him who had been the means 
of saving her from ruin. A tear dropped on 
his folded hands as she raised her weeping eyes 
from his face. 

“He died for me,” she sobbed. 

It was a picture for an artist. 

I persuaded her to accompany me to Marie’s 
room, which at first she was unwilling to do. 

She was still rubbing her eyes with her hand 
when we entered. At the sight of Marie, she 
stood still in wonder not unmixed with awe. 

Marie lay with closed eyes in her chair, her 
angelic face in full relief against the crimson 
cushion. Her tiny waxen hands folded resign- 
edly upon her breast. 


314 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


“Is she dead, too?” asked the girl, with a 
frightened look. 

Marie opened her eyes and gave a start at 
the apparition confronting her. I hastened to 
explain, and what I said opened afresh the 
fountain of the girl’s tears, for it made known 
to her William’s solicitude for her welfare, 
which was expressed in his latest breath. 

“He looks like Bill,” she sobbed. 

Marie regarded her intently, without inter- 
rupting her flow of grief. There was nothing 
ordinary about the girl. From the tallow-pom- 
aded elf-locks, twisted gracefully below the 
old straw hat — perched upon the back of her 
head — to the bottom of the scanty attire, flap- 
ping her ankles, the hand of genius was mani- 
fest. Even her rags were uncommon, bearing 
the distinction of having been darned together 
with twine and bits of colored yarn, in truly 
artistic fashion. A startling twist had been 
given her draped overskirts, covering a rent 
in her dress, which still impudently claimed 
recognition. 

A look of pity was in Marie’s face, as her 
visitor’s rough hands covered her eyes and 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


315 


shaded her quivering lips. My sister waited 
patiently until the hands dropped, and made 
the overskirt do service in wiping away her 
tears. Then she turned her large luminous 
grey eyes — the most striking feature of her 
interesting face — full upon Marie. Marie told 
me afterward that there was something in their 
expression that reminded her of William's eyes. 

A pink flush daintily touched the invalid’s 
pale cheeks as she said, “W'hat is your name?” 

“Grace,” answered the girl. 

“Grace, could you sit with me a while? I 
want to talk with you.” 

Grace hesitated. “I’ll ketch it if I do, and 
may be I’ll ketch it anyway. I guess I’ll take 
the risks and stay. ’ ’ 

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Marie. 

“I mean they’ll jaw me for not cornin’ back 
to help about the washin’. But now I'm here 
I might as well die for an ole sheep as a lamb. 
They’ll make a row anyway.” 

“If your parents need your help, perhaps 
you had better go, ’’said Marie; “you can come 
again. ’ ’ 

“My parents!” repeated the girl, in fine 


316 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


scorn. “Them people are not my parents. 
They only brung me up. My brother and me 
was both give to them, but my brother run 
away and I would if I could. I wish I might 
never see them again. But I don’t want to 
jump out of the fryin’ pan into the fire. I’ve 
been told I could live like a lady and have fine 
clothes in some places, but I’ve got nothin’ but 
myself and I’m goin’ to own myself.’’ 

The girl relapsed into silence, regarding 
Marie with a look of fixed determination. 

“Would you like to tell me more about your- 
self and the people you are living with?’’ asked 
Marie, sympathetically. “I would like to 
know why they took you to bring up. ’ ’ 

“ ’Cause my father and mother died when 
they was sailin’ over from Germany, and me 
and my brother was put into an orphan’s home, 
and them folks got us. They treated us awful. 
My brother was bigger than me. He used to 
fight every bad boy that was mean to me, and 
he hated them people that had us, for they took 
in washin’ and they made him work awful, just 
as they do me. Finally he told me he was 
goin’ to run away, and when he got big enough 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


317 


to fight ’em, he’d come back for me. He did 
come, but they had me tied in the cellar, and 
told him I was dead, and I never saw him any 
more. 

‘‘When them men was chasin’ me las’ night 
I thought of my brother, and wished he was 
there, but the young man who ran to us when 
I screamed fit ’em. He knocked ’em right and 
left. And then to think they shot him! It al- 
most kills me to think of him dyin’ for me.” 
And she again fell to weeping. 

Marie motioned to me, and I bent over her. 

“Ask mamma if I may keep her here,” she 
said. 

Mamma’s consent was obtained, and Grace 
never went back to be ‘‘slavey at the tub.” 


318 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER LI. 

Mamma accompanied me and my family to 
New York, where the remains of my husband 
were interred in the family vault. 

Mr. Booth had been sent for, and arrived in 
time to officiate at William’s funeral, held the 
morning of our departure. 

Last rites for the Judge were performed in 
the church of his choice. The full sense of my 
desolation came over me when his body was 
consigned to the tomb ; but Gabriel clinging to 
my skirts, and Bernie weeping by my side, 
reminded me of my responsibilities for those to 
whom I was to be as father and mother. I 
resolved to set them an example of courage 
more effective than any words I might say. It 
was only when alone that I yielded to the 
weight which oppressed me, and cried out for 
help to bear my burden — but no relief came ! 

Marie’s letter to mamma, who remained with 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


319 


me some days, indicated how she was strength- 
ened to bear her affliction : 

My Dear Mamma: 

It is two days since you left, and it seems 
two years. William has been gone ages and 
ages. 

Oh, how long the time seems since he went ; I 
can not fill it up. Grace has begun to help 
about my flowers, but does not know how, as 
William did. The very flowers miss him, I 
know. He used to raise up the pansies with 
his finger, so he could look into their smiling 
faces, and called it chucking them under the 
chin; but they don’t seem to smile any more, 
and the roses are drooping their heads in sor- 
row, all excepting the big red one I named for 
him; that is flourishing and growing more 
beautiful every day, as I hope William is in 
heaven. The only comfort is in thinking him 
happier there than he could be here. At first, 
I was worried because he had not been bap- 
tized, but Mr. Booth says not to worry, but 
trust his soul to the good Father, who loves him 
with an everlasting love, and that satisfies me. 

Mr. Gale sat with me twice, and talked about 


320 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


William. He is going to paint a portrait of 
him for me. Grace never speaks of William 
without tears coming into her eyes. She thinks 
him the grandest man that ever lived. Grace 
is queer. She doesn’t believe in anything — 
that is, hardly anything. She has never been 
to school, but has been taught to read and 
write. She read all about William’s heroic act, 
which cost him his life, in the paper, and that 
is the way she found out he was at our house. 
She has told the particulars of the tragedy to 
me many times, and always ends the story with 
a burst of tears. Then I feel as if I could hug 
her. She says she is not afraid of anything, 
and she did not run from her pursuers because 
she was afraid, but because she was tired wash- 
ing, and it was easier to run and scream than 
to fight them. She says her father was a sol- 
dier, and her brother and she used to play they 
were soldiers, and practiced fighting each 
other for fun. That was the way they both 
learned to fight, and she thinks if she had not 
been tied up in the cellar when her brother 
went back after her, he would have fought 
those people and taken her away. She says it 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


321 


is very necessary that orphans should learn to 
fight. She is very proud of what she calls her 
washtub muscle, which she has bared her arm 
to show me. She says it's a mighty handy 
thing to have. Her conversation reminds me 
of the way William used to talk when he first 
came to us. She went to his grave yesterday 
and strewed it with flowers, and set out some 
pansies. They will be the first to blossom 
after the frosts of winter. Oh, it is sad to think 
of William’s body lying under the snow! At 
times I can scarcely realize that he is really 
gone. “It is God’s will,” I keep saying to 
myself. But no matter how much I say it is 
God’s will, my heart aches just the same. 

Don’t hurry home, dear mamma; stay and 
comfort Frank and Bernie. They need you 
more than I. 

Nurse is as good to me as she can be. Grace 
devotes herself to my comfort, but as Mr. Booth 
says, no one can ease the pain in my heart 
except He who put it there ; it will be gone 
when He gives me back my loved ones in a hap- 
pier world than this. I wish Frank and Bernie 
could hear Mr. Booth talk. If any one could 


322 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


console them he could. Give them my love. 

I know if Mr. Booth were here he would send 
his love also. Kiss Gabriel a thousand times 
for me ; poor little fatherless boy. 

Yours lovingly, 

Marie. 

Although Marie’s promptly written letter 
greatly relieved mamma’s anxiety concerning 
her, she did not change her plan to return at 
an early date. Sometime afterward she wrote 
me. 

“It has transpired that Grace is William’s 
sister. Mr. Gale made the discovery, finding 
the clue among the belongings William left in 
the studio. The chain of evidence is complete. 
Grace herself says she noticed the resem- 
blance of the dead, to the living little brother, 
from whom she parted years ago. She thinks 
the beard prevented her from identifying the 
face she remembered so well. I think you 
remember her saying that William looked like 
‘Bill,’ as she called her brother. This fact 
has given her a more devoted friend than ever 
in Marie, who can not do enough for the sister 
of the boy she idolized. She has undertaken 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


323 


to prepare Grace to take her place in the 
classes she would naturally be expected to 
occupy, for she is too proud to enter the pri- 
mary department, which would be suited to 
her attainments. Her ambition to acquire 
knowledge is wonderful and promises well for 
her future. The worst feature in the girl’s 
character is her pugilistic tendency; not that 
she has actually attacked any one, but when 
displeased with a person, she will say, ‘I would 
like to hit him. ’ 

“Although her associations have always been 
low, she has an innate sense of propriety, and 
dignity, such as enabled William to rise above 
his position. Mr. Gale thinks, from what he 
has learned, that the brother and sister are the 
lineal descendants of a German baron of the 
same name as William. He intends to pursue 
his investigation and learn what he can of 
their ancestry. Grace wears the fine gowns 
which Bernie laid aside for mourning with the 
air of a duchess, and it is a question whether 
Mr. Gale is paying attention to the gown or to 
the girl. Perhaps Bernie could throw some 

light on the subject.’’ 

21 


324 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


Bernie tossed her head and grimaced mis- 
chievously when I read her the foregoing sen- 
tence. With the elasticity of youth she was 
already recovering her spirits. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


325 


CHAPTER LII. 

It was a late autumn evening, after my 
great loss. Winds, cold and bleak, were blow- 
ing without and grates glowing within. Ber- 
nie and I sat by our fireside, and watched little 
Gabriel amusing himself with his puppy and 
playthings. 

“Mamma, I shall go crazy if I have to stay 
here shut up in this dismal house all winter. 
I don’t want to go into society so soon after all 
our trouble, but I do want a change!’’ 

“You know, my dear, I must be here a 
part of the time, at least, to attend to import- 
ant matters connected with the settlement of 
your papa’s estate.’’ 

“Yes, I know. But you could take Gabriel 
and me to your mamma’s and come back 
whenever necessary. You know, she said in 
her last letter, we must come ; she would not 
take no for an answer. She and Marie are so 


326 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


lonely without us, and we miss them so dread- 
fully. ” 

I made no answer, Bernie appealed to Ga- 
briel. “Gabie, come and coax mamma to take 
us to Grandmamma Adams. Now, show your- 
self a good little lawyer, and win your case!” 

Gabriel, although apparently absorbed in 
play, had kept his ears open, as he always did, 
to our conversation. He had often before been 
called upon to lead at an imaginary bar, under 
his papa’s training, so readily responded. Re- 
leasing his puppy from the shafts of his toy 
cart, and driving it to its stable under the sofa, 
he approached the feminine judge, on whom 
the decision of his case depended, with the air 
of one sure of his points. He fixed his intelli- 
gent eyes upon the judge, with a side glance 
at Bernie. 

“My sister Bernie is lonesome.” Bernie 
nodded assent. “She hasn’t any puppy to play 
with.” Bernie smiled approval. “If she 
should go to dranmamma’s she might find a 
puppy to play with.” 

“Bravo!” exclaimed Bernie, clapping her 
hands. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


327 


“Silence in the court,” commanded the 
judge. “I want to hear your attorney’s plea. 
Go on, Gabriel!” 

“Dranmamma is lonesome, Aunt Mawee is 
lonesome, Mr. Booth is lonesome, Mr. Dale is 
lonesome, that new dirl is lonesome — and — 
and — we ought not to let them all be lonesome 
for us. They are peoples and we are peoples, 
and peoples ought to be good to each other 
and visit together. Dranmamma was here last 
and she told me it was our turn to do there. 
They might cry if we don’t come. And they 
might get sick and die. Do you want your 
mamma to die and never see her any more?” 
The judge motioned the little pleader to con- 
tinue. “I want to see Mr. Booth — I want to 
see him the worstest I ever wanted to see any- 
body, and I’ll div my puppy if you’ll take us.” 

The case here rested. After the judge had 
signified that she could not be corrupted by 
the offer of the pet, she took the matter under 
advisement, to be decided at an early day. 

I sat that night, long after the children had 
retired, debating the question, when a hand 


328 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


seemed to be laid upon my shoulder and a voice 
said “Go.” 

Startled, I glanced quickly around, almost 
expecting to see Judge Bennett. I was sure it 
was his voice that spoke and his familiar touch 
I felt, but the flickering shadows on the walls 
and furniture were all I saw. I wondered if it 
were possible I could have fallen asleep and 
thus dreamed of the “stilled voice and vanish- 
ed hand.” The dream, if such it were, de- 
cided me ; and thus the young attorney gained 
his victory. Decision was therefore rendered 
that we remove, for a season, to Grandmamma 
Adams’, and the week before Thanksgiving 
was set for departure. 

Preparations for the change began immedi- 
ately. I found the knowledge I had gained of 
law, of great advantage to me in the settle- 
ment of our affairs. I took my husband’s place, 
so far as possible, in the firm, being the silent 
partner. The training and education of my 
son, the chaperoning of Bernice, were now my 
duties. I looked forward to the time when I 
would be at liberty to engage more actively in 
my chosen profession. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


329 


My fondest hopes were centered in my son 
and the castles I built for him reached the 
sky. He was not easily governed, but love 
was a powerful factor in keeping him under 
control. He had never said his prayers since 
the time he said them for Marie, and I, for 
very shame on account of my own dereliction 
in that respect, had ceased to importune him. 
Realizing that the fault — if such it were — was 
mine and the child was not responsible, I had 
no blame for him, and perhaps, loved him the 
more for his inherited obstinacy. 

For Bernie also, I felt the keenest solicitude. 
She was a bundle of contradictions; either 
madly hilarious, or proportionately despondent. 
Although sincerely mourning for her father, 
she soon pined for a broader field in which to 
indulge her merriment. 

When she learned of the proposed visit to 
my mother, she signified her delight by turn- 
ing boarding-school somersaults the entire 
length of the room, jumping over every chair 
in her way, and engaging in other unseemly 
absurdities. ‘‘Now/’ throwing herself breath- 
less upon the lounge, “I must spend my time 


330 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


until we go, planning to give your mamma’s 
family pleasant surprises.” 

“I shall 'sprise Mr. Booth,” echoed Gabriel, 
who was at my heels. 

“O, yes; and so shall I,” said Bernie. “I 
know how I’ll surprise the Angel.” 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


331 


CHAPTER LIII. 

Our old physician, Dr. Jones, whose 
friendly and professional visits dated back to 
the day of my birth, was the first to call upon 
me in my mother’s home. He had been talk- 
ing with mamma when I was summoned into 
his presence. It was always pleasant for me 
to meet this wise and wary friend, for he had 
intrenched himself in my confidence by never 
alluding to the event in my life, the secret of 
which he knew I jealously guarded. On the 
occasion of my husband’s sudden and mysteri- 
ous death, he had considerately refrained from 
questioning me as to the cause. In his inter- 
view with mamma, he had returned the pecul- 
iar stone she had loaned him for examination, 
and now appealed to me for further detail. 

“Your mamma has just told me,” said he, 
“that you have not yet seen the stone that 
Bernice associates with the death of her 
papa.’’ I was about to reply when our inter- 


332 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


view was suddenly terminated by a messenger 
for the doctor. 

“Come with me,” said mamma, gathering 
up the package from her lap; “I want to show 
you this. ” In her room, she locked the door. 
When she removed the paper wrapping from 
the curious thing, I saw an oblong stone, sev- 
eral inches in length, at one end of which was 
an almost perfectly formed tiny human head. 
Below the head, which was bent face down- 
ward, the stone presented the appearance of a 
jumbled mass of fibrous things, pressed into a 
solid lump. “It seems to be a fossilized em- 
bryo with a head like a human pigmy,” I said. 

“Dr. Jones said it might be a petrifaction,” 
answered mamma, “and very likely it is. I 
will tell you why. When you were a babe, 
and I was in need of a nurse, one came highly 
recommended by a Mrs. Bennett, of New 
York, who was well known to a friend of mine. 
I engaged her, and although she had never 
nursed before gave entire satisfaction. She 
was exceedingly fond of you, and often said 
she could not love a baby of her own better. 
But tor some unknown reason, she suddenly 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


333 


left my service. Before leaving she planted 
the rose-bush under her bed-room window, 
with, her own hands, and begged me to let it 
remain as a token of her love for you. From 
the roots of this bush, Gabriel dug this fossil. 
The nurse said, ‘Tell Baby Frank, when she 
is old enough to understand, about my love for 
her, of which the bush is a token. ’ ” 

While mamma was telling her story, I was 
studying the fossil, and as I traced the tiny 
features of the drooping face, from the Lau- 
reola brow to the queer little grinning mouth, 
cold chills crept over me. Mamma added, “It 
may be a freak of nature, and I hope it is, but 
strangely enough, I never saw the girl again. 
I have a horror of the stone. What shall we 
do with the dreadful thing?” 

“Let us bury it under the rose-bush,” and 
together we went out and covered it forever 
from our sight. Mamma went into the house, 
while I lingered among the shrubbery, con- 
gratulating myself that she was unacquainted 
with the various episodes in Madam Laureola’s 
life, so well known to me. Around the corner 
of the house, hidden from view I heard Bernie 


334 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


and Mr. Booth in conversation. Said Bernie, 
“I never go around that corner now, for that 
hateful bush is there, under which I found the 
stone that killed papa.” 

4 ‘How could taking a stone in his hand kill 
him?” questioned Mr. Booth. 

“I don’t know,” replied Bernie, ‘‘but it did. 
He was sitting in his chair, in perfect health, 
reading the paper, and I gave him the stone. 
He turned it over in his hand several times, 
examined it, turned pale, rolled his eyes and 
began to gasp for breath, and died. ’ ’ 

Bernie’s voice choked. After a moment Mr. 
Booth asked what became of the stone. ‘‘Dr. 
Jones has it. He assured me it could not pos- 
sibly have killed papa, but I know it did, for I 
was there, and if the doctor had been there he 
would have seen for himself.” 

I heard no reply to Bernie’s assertions. 
“You didn’t know papa very well, did you, Mr. 
Booth?” 

“Our acquaintance was very slight.” 

“Well, he was one of the best men than ever 
lived. Not in a praying way, you know, but 
in a generous way. The only selfish thing I 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


335 


ever knew of his doing was to let Mamma 
Frank promise him she would not marry again 
if he should die. He had married her after my 
own mamma died; he didn’t seem to think of 
that. I happened to overhear what they said, 
and Mamma Frank promised she would never 
marry another. I’m glad of it, of course, but 
it did look a little selfish in papa to exact such a 
promise. Don’t you think so, Mr. Booth?” 

His answer was unintelligible to me, and 
they moved away. 


336 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER LIV. 

Marie said to me a few days before Thanks- 
giving, “I hate to think of all the poor people 
that won’t have any turkey, when we are hav- 
ing a big fat one; don’t you, Frank?” 

Having a suspicion my good sister was about 
to propose missionary work distasteful to me, 

I answered warily. ‘‘Of course, it is not pleas- 
ant to think of people too poor to dine on tur- 
key, but let us not make ourselves uncomfort- 
able thinking of them ; let us rather contem- 
plate our own blessings with thankful hearts. ’ ’ 

“I want more people to have thankful hearts 
beside those who go to church and eat turkey, 
and how can they if they are hungry? Frank, 
I can't eat when I think about people starving. 
I’m made so and I can’t help it.” 

“It’s unfortunate that you are made so, 
Marie, for you can not feed all the hungry 
people in the world, and there are always some 
starving.” 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


837 


“I know, Frank, Jesus Christ said, ‘the poor 
ye have always with you. ’ Now, I want to do 
what I can for the poor on Thanksgiving Day. 
I know I can not feed them all, but I can do my 
share toward providing for them, and I so 
much wish your help. Mamma is too busy to 
attend to it. ” 

“What do you want me to do, Marie?” 

“Just what Mr. Booth advises. He can plan 
much better than I, and knows how to stretch 
money like india-rubber. A dollar in his hand 
is as good as two in mine. I have given all 
mamma would permit out of my allowance. 
Mr. Booth wants to get up a free church din- 
ner and invite every one to come, instead of 
having dinner at their homes, but mamma and 
others object. He is trying to solve the prob- 
lem of dinner or no dinner for the poor. I told 
him I would ask you about it. He said your 
advice would be valuable.” 

Marie had scarcely ceased speaking when Mr. 
Booth came into the room. “Speak of angels 
and you hear the flutter of their wings,” was 
Marie’s informal greeting. 4< I was just telling 


338 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


Frank you said her advice would be valuable, 
and I’m glad you are both here.” 

Mr. Booth and myself exchanged inquiring 
glances. It was the first opportunity for any- 
thing more than the merest civilities, that had 
occurred since my return. His attention had 
been largely bestowed upon Gabriel and 
Bernie, to the exclusion of their mamma. But 
now having been driven to close quarters, he 
manfully faced the situation. “Will you kindly 
favor me with your advice, Mrs. Bennett?” 

“You may say ‘Frank,’ if you please, Mr. 
Booth. I prefer my old friends to call me by 
the name most familiar to them,” I said with a 
slight show of embarrassment. 

He looked relieved. “Thank you!” 

“Now what do you advise,” asked Marie, 
looking from one to the other. “Do you 
advise a dinner?” 

Her pastor and sister stared at each other. 
A touch of the spirit of directness, so promi- 
nent in Marie, before her affliction, manifested 
itself. “Are you two people always going to 
act queer together?” said she. I blushed as 
a girl, and the color rose quickly in Mr. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


339 

Booth’s face. “If you are going to give advice, 
Frank, I wish you would do it,” continued the 
unmerciful prodder. 

‘ 4 1 don’t understand the situation well enough 
to give advice,” I answered. 

Mr. Booth proceeded to explain. It seemed 
his purse was not as large as his heart, else 
would he have every poor family in the city 
thankful for a good dinner Thanksgiving Day. 

It was soon settled that there was not time 
to ^accomplish the desired object, and so we 
must content ourselves with donating dinners 
in a small way to those whom Mr. Booth had 
selected as most needy. It was also settled that 
I act as commissariat in ordering the provisions 
and seeing they were properly distributed. 

The work was entirely new to me, and 
I was in my carriage early and late, until my 
duties were accomplished. In driving about 
among the poor, I was surprised to find so 
much actual suffering. I realized more fully 
than ever there must be great wrong some- 
where to make these conditions possible. My 
studies in political economy were meager, but 

I had often heard the theory advanced that 

22 


340 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


extreme poverty was largely owing to indo- 
lence and thriftlessness, and in a general way, 
I had accepted this opinion. Now I began to 
entertain doubts as to the correctness of the 
theory. I appealed to Mr. Booth for a solution 
of the problem. 

In effect, he said that nearly all misery and 
poverty resulted from non-observance of the 
religion of Jesus Christ, and will never be done 
away with until the spirit of his teachings are 
followed. Observance of the golden rule alone 
would make a paradise of this world. To love 
one’s neighbor as one’s self is not an impossi- 
bility. Some few have attained that nearness 
to perfection. I believe Count Tolstoi is one 
of them. Marie is a long way on the road to 
it. Other choice spirits have approached it, as 
may be seen by their loving self-sacrifice. “In 
the truth that a little leaven leaveneth the whole 
lump, lies the hope of the world,” he concluded 
with encouraging emphasis. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


341 


CHAPTER LV. 

A note was handed me on the afternoon 
before Thanksgiving Day. It read : 
most kindest leddy 

we uns is pore to we aint got no turky nor 
nothin fer thanksgivin da My ole man is sic 
an i kent du muc washin fer the gal we hed to 
help has runed awa we uns is in bad luk drefful 
bad luk an we peel to yu fer help if yu ken 
gin we anythin we wil be drefful bliged we 
live to 120 shady ally 

sally Long 

I was in Marie’s room, holding a consulta- 
tion with Mr. Booth, when I received the com- 
munication, and as I read it aloud, mamma 
came in. She stopped to listen. “I told you 
so,” she said, as I finished and gazed blankly 
around for sympathy. “I told you, you would 
be beset by worthless beggars, if you did this 
thing. And now you see I was not mistaken.” 

Mr. Booth looked distressed. He seemed to 


342 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


think mamma’s remarks were a reflection upon 
him for the part he had taken in prompting her 
daughters to what she considered foolish ex- 
periments. 

“I will find out for myself how needy they 
are, as they are not Mr. Booth’s beneficiaries,” 
I said. ‘‘I can not turn a deaf ear to this 
affecting ‘peel,’ mamma.” 

The pained expression left Mr. Booth’s face 
as if by magic. In fact, it cleared up so 
beautifully that I felt repaid for all I had done, 
or intended to do for his sake. His approval, as 
of old, I began to desire above all else. Was 
I turning to him for comfort in my sorrow? 

An hour later found my carriage drawn up 
in front of 120 Shady Alley, and a frowsy 
woman stood beside it. It was Sally Long. 
She repeated the story told with her pen, 
adding such embellishments as a ready tongue 
may make. She directed my attention as a 
proof of her veracity to her battered washtubs, 
toppling like tipsy tramps on three-legged 
stools, in front of her humble abode. The 
door was open. 

“The ole man is abed in t’other end of the 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


343 


room. He tuk sick a week ago. He s most 
discouraged ’cause he cant git work and I cant 
git washin’ enough to buy his medicine. Grace 
she runed away. She was a mighty handy gal. 
She could wash powerful an’ fight like a boy. 

“She larnt it of her brother Bill but he runed 
away years afore she did. Them brats was 
ongrateful. I tuk ’em in from the orphan’s 
hum an’ when they got big enough to yearn 
their own livin’ fust one lit out and then 
t’other.’’ 

It occurred to me to inquire further concern- 
ing the antecedents of the children who I be- 
came satisfied were none other than Marie’s 
proteges, William and Grace. 

“They was two little Dutch brats what 
couldn’t speak a word of Inglish when I tuk 
’em. Their father and mother was both 
drowned when they was coming on the ocean 
to America. The ship was sunk, I reckon, an’ 
there want no way of findin’ out who the 
young ’uns belonged to. But they gin me the 
clothes they had on when they was brung 
there an’ I kep the Dutchv little duds fer cur- 
iosities. They was kinder nice too. ’’ 


344 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


“You shall have a good turkey dinner to- 
morrow, if you will give me those clothes.” 

“Its a bargain,” said the woman, promptly, 
and she did not wait to be paid in advance, but 
trusting to my honor, laid her long treasured 
bundle in the carriage, at my feet. I took 
them to Mr. Gale’s studio, with the intention 
of leaving the relics which might prove of 
assistance to him in the search for William’s 
relatives, and also to insure them from recog- 
nition by Grace, until such time as might suit 
our purpose. Quietly entering, the reception 
room was vacant, and I proceeded to the 
adjoining studio. I knocked gently, and pre- 
suming on our long established friendship, 
opened the door at the same moment. There 
was Mr. Gale at his easel, and there was Grace 
posing before him. She was dressed in the 
identical rags and tatters, in which she appeared 
on the morning I first saw her, standing by 
William’s bier. 

I stood transfixed with amazement. Mr. 
Gale arose and bowed, brush in hand. He was 
evidently embarrassed, but did not lose his 
presence of mind. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


345 


“Shall we go to the reception room?” he 
asked. And turning to Grace, “Will you please 
wait for me ; I have not quite done with you?” 

Mr. Gale closed the door upon his model and 
mutual explanations and apologies followed. 
It seemed the artist was anxious to transfer to 
canvass the impression which Grace’s appear- 
ance had made upon him as she bent tearfully 
over the, to her, dead stranger, and said, “He 
died for me !” Hence the secret posing, known 
only to the unsophisticated Marie. 

The package was opened, and the infant’s 
garments it contained were marked in such a 
manner as to establish the relationship of Wil- 
liam and Grace to the German baron. Grace 
was at length invited to take part in the confer- 
ence, and she testified to what Sally Long had 
told her on the subject. “This cap,” she said, 
“was Bill’s. Old Mother Long told me so; 
and this hood was mine. There’s our names 
on the skirts and things. The old woman said 
she didn’t doubt that we was quality babies, 
for our clothes showed it. But she said she’d 
prove that quality folks could work if they had 
to, and she just put us through. She never 


346 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


showed the bundle to Bill, but she showed it 
to me many a time after he run away. I knew 
it the minute I saw it in Mrs. Bennett’s hands. 
I knew where that yellow old bundle came 
from very well. I suppose she made you pay 
big for it, Mrs. Bennett; she said she’d never 
let it go for a song.” 

“She let it go for a Thanksgiving dinner, 
Grace; and the poor thing needed it badly.” 

“Well, I never! Did you give them a din- 
ner? And everything they ever give me for 
all my slaving was old rags like I’ve got on. 
Just see this toggery, and then look at them 
things. If it aint scandalizing! Aint it scan- 
dalizing the way things is in this world any- 
way? I shall go there some day, dressed in my 
best, and tell ’em this world has some good 
folks in it. ’ ’ 

We did not reply. Mr. Gale was absorbed 
in the study of a dainty lace trimmed bib. He 
was obliged to defer his work on the picture, 
and Grace, covered with an ulster, returned 
with me in the carriage. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


341 


CHAPTER LVI. 

Shady Alley was my destination when start- 
ing out next day. Statements made by Sally 
Long concerning her struggles with poverty 
on my former visit, had interested me. Her 
side of life was new to me. 

It was afternoon, and Sally Long was ener- 
getically emptying her tubs, having finished 
her washing, which appeared like inverted 
dancers along the wind-blown lines. Seeing 
me. she flew to the carriage. I accepted her 
invitation to “get out and come in.” 

“We uns is all upset for I cant rid things ’til 
I git through washin’.” 

We entered the dismal abode, Sally drawing 
forth a wooden chair and dusting it with her 
apron. Sweat and steam were still on her cor- 
rugated brow, and her apron was again called 
into requisition to remove it. She seated her- 
self on the edge of the bed where her husband 
lay apparently fast asleep, but the suspicious 


348 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


contraction of the shaggy eyebrows was observ- 
able as his spry little spouse planted herself at 
his feet. She swung her feet several inches 
clear of the floor, causing the rickety structure 
to vibrate while she balanced herself by grasp- 
ing the post at her right. A scraggy lop-eared 
dog lay across the foot of the bed. Our con- 
versation had scarcely begun, when there was 
a perceptible quiver of the man’s lids, and a 
sharp eye for an instant turned on me. Sally 
saw the squint and hastened to reassure me. 

“Ha aint awake. He allers sleeps with one 
eye open. He combinated the habit when he 
was watchman at the mill. He could fix his- 
self fer a nap with his side to where the boss 
would come, and set that er eye of hisn so it 
would shine on him any time of night. I told 
him it wasn’t fair, but he said there was lots of 
things that wasn’t fair; it wasn’t fair he should 
watch all night for a shilling, and it wasn’t 
nuther, and I knowed it. We poor folkses 
know we aint treated fair. If we was we could 
buy our own turkies. We uns aint paid noth- 
ing to speak ©f, for our work, and we can’t git 
it half the time to do. When we tuk them 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


349 


children to bring up, he was workin’ in the 
mill. We calculated the boy could help him 
when he was big ’nough, and the gal could 
help me wash; but he lost his place in the mill 
when he got hurt, and we had to grind them 
young ’uns. Fust one run away and then 
t’other lit out, but we ’uns aint got nowhere to 
run to when we is grinded. Grace said, when 
she came here, all dressed up, that she wasn't 
grinded no more, and I’m glad of it!” 

‘‘She’s in good shape to light the fire, boss!” 
murmured the head on the pillow. 

‘‘He’s dreamin’ he’s in the mill. He’s 
always talkin’ to the boss in his sleep,” said 
Sally, with indifference. 

I embraced the opportunity afforded by the 
interruption, to further question the woman 
concerning the children. ‘‘Oh, yes. They was 
two sharp ’uns — was them young ’uns. They 
was up to every kind of diviltry. Bill teached 
Grace to fight, and she fit like a tartar. They 
practiced on each other and went around with 
bloody noses half the time. I’ve seen ’em 
lock arms and walk off lovin’ like with their 
faces all scratched and smutty from rastling 


350 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


in the dirt together. There wasn’t a boy in 
the alley that dast hist a chip or raise his 
thumb to his nose at ’em. They was awful 
lovin’ when they wasn’t fightin’. When Bill 
run away Grace most cried her eyes out ; and 
the fellers in the alley began to pick on her. 
But she soon showed ’em she was dangerous. 
I’ve seed her draw off and fist’cuff the biggest 
of ’em. When Bill come back to see her, I had 
her tied up in the cellar fer fightin’. Me an’ 
the ole man had a hard tussle to wear her out 
an* git her gagged and roped for she fit power- 
ful. 1 hed to tell Bill she was dead fer I was 
afeard if I told him the truth he would manage 
to murder us. He was awful savage when his 
dander was up. When he wasn’t more’n knee 
high to a grasshopper, he bragged what he’d do 
to anybody that touched Grace. Fact mum.” 

The head on the pillow was suddenly lifted 
with both eyes open. “He’s awake,” said 
Sally, sliding from her perch to the floor with 
a jarring thud. 

“Derned ef I aint,” was the rough reply. 
“Hev ye got my gruel ready?” 

“There aint no meal, and I’ve got to get the 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


351 


pay fer to-day’s washin’ before I ken git any,” 
said she, waddling away from the bed. The 
head dropped back, and uttered blood-curdling 
imprecations against those whom he called the 
robbers of the poor. His maledictions so 
shocked me that I immediately arose to go. I 
was followed out by the active little woman 
from whose shoulders her husband’s curses 
rolled unheeded. “He allers curses when the 
meal has gin out, fer he lives mostly on gruel, 
though he stuffed hisself with turkey yisteday, 
an’ I thought that would last him ’till I got 
the meal; so I gin the leavin’s of the dinner 
to the folkses in the alley. If I hadn’t they’d 
have throwed mud on our winders and 
liectered us awful. I tell you there’s nothing 
like hectering folks to make ’em share with 
you. My ole man says there’ll be such a 
hecterin’ time as the world has never knowed, 
ef grindin’ of the poor keeps on.” 

In parting with Sally Long, I promised to 
send her the meal she needed. 


352 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER LVII. 

Having returned from abroad, Miss Gay sur- 
prised our assembled family by walking into 
the parlor Christmas eve. “The spirit said to 
me, ‘go,* and forthwith I sailed for my native 
land,” she cheerily explained. “I knew 1 
would be welcome. ’ * 

“Welcome?” echoed a chorus of voices; “of 
course you are welcome!” 

“None could be more welcome,” said 
mamma, embracing her. Marie burst into a 
flood of tears when it came her turn to take 
Miss Gay’s hand and receive her kiss. “Wil- 
liam is not here to welcome you,” she sobbed. 

“How does thee know William is not here,” 
answered Miss Gay. ‘ ‘ How does thee know his 
happy spirit is not with us, bearing blessings 
from the good Father?” 

“I wish I knew,” said Marie. 

“Thee may know it to thy satisfaction, if 
thee will consider that the spirit, when disem- 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


353 


bodied, does not change, and would naturally 
continue to seek the society of those it loved 
while in the body. I think it reasonable to 
believe that our loved ones, whose presence we 
desire, are here. Let us be glad and rejoice 
with them to-night that their Redeemer and 
ours liveth. To-morrow we will celebrate His 
appearance upon the earth, as the babe of 
Bethlehem and the Savior of the world. Let 
us sing the song the angels sang, ‘Peace on 
earth; good will to men.’ ” 

She turned to me. “I know thee will play 
and sing it with us; sing it for the Judge. He 
knows more about it now than he did before he 
entered the new life. ” 

Thus tenderly exhorted, I went to the piano 
and sang “Gloria in Excelsis. ” Upon my 
shoulder the gentle pressure of a hand caused 
me to look around, as the last notes of the chant 
died away. No one was near enough to touch 
me, and I was not surprised, I had so often 
experienced the same sensation. 

The sound of music had reached Mr. Booth’s 
study and attracted him to the parlor, shad- 
owed as usual by his little namesake. 


354 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


Conversation naturally turned to Miss Gay’s 
experiences abroad. She had much of interest 
to relate. We were all taken by surprise when 
she turned to Mr. Gale, saying, “By the way, 
while in Germany I chanced to meet Baron 
von Heidleburg, who informed me he was in 
correspondence with you concerning the rela- 
tionship to him of two children, supposed to 
have been lost at sea. I assured him he might 
depend upon the correctness of the information 
you had given. He had about decided to send 
a relative to investigate more fully ; for Wil- 
liam would be his heir, could his identity be 
established.” 

“We have had further correspondence since 
your interview,” replied Mr. Gale, “and he 
knows William is dead and Grace living. I 
received a letter from him saying he would 
send for Grace.” 

“This is indeed wonderful,” said Miss Gay. 
“Where is Grace? I would like to see Wil- 
liam’s sister — the heiress of a baron’s great 
wealth.” 

Bernie glanced furtively at Mr. Gale, while 
mamma replied, “Grace has gone to sit with 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


355 


her foster-father, who is very sick, and too poor 
to have a paid nurse. Her foster-mother 
washes for a living, and can not watch nights. ” 

Mr. Gale fidgeted in his chair and looked at 
mamma. “Is the man dangerously ill?” 

“Yes,” said mamma. 

“Will she be alone with him?” 

“I don’t know, Mr. Gale. I presume there 
are neighbors she can call. You know Grace 
is not timid. ” 

Mr. Gale made no reply, but soon after 
slipped quietly from the room. 

In the course of an hour he returned and 
announced that he had brought Grace home, 
having found the man breathing his last, and 
in no further need of her services. 

“It is not a fit place for her to stay all 
night,” said he. 

Mr. Booth immediately arose. “I must go 
to them. ’ ' 

“No, no, Brother Booth, you are not 
wanted,” responded Mr. Gale. “They said 
‘they didn’t want no drivlin preacher around 
thar what didn’t care whether they lived or 
died of starvation.’ ” 


356 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


“I’m going,” answered Mr. Booth, decid- 
edly, “and Brother Gale, I would not object to 
your accompanying me. ’ 

“How very brotherly they are all at once,” 
said Bernie aside to me. “I wonder what it 
all means.” 

After further parleying, Mr. Gale decided, 
with an eye on Bernie, to remain with us, and 
Mr. Booth went alone to the afflicted. Soon 
after he left, we retired to our rooms. As 
Bernie’s apartment joined mine, I was not sur- 
prised to see her appear robed for the night. 

“Mamma, what do you suppose possesses Mr. 
Gale to run after Grace the way he does? Is 
it her prospective fortune or herself that is the 
attraction?” 

“In my opinion, neither, Bernie. His affec- 
tion for William was so sincere, he feels in 
duty bound to do what he can for William's 
sister. With Marie the feeling is the same, or 
rather it is accentuated from the fact that Wil- 
liam especially commended Grace to her care. " 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


357 


CHAPTER LVIII. 

The novel sensation of being the recipient of 
a variety of beautiful Christmas gifts had been 
experienced by Grace. While delightedly dis- 
playing them to Marie, a visitor Was announc- 
ed for “Miss von Heidleburg. ” She did not 
take the trouble to decipher the name upon 
the card, saying carelessly, as she started to 
the parlor, “It’s likely some one to see me 
about Long’s funeral; he is to be buried to- 
day.” 

She soon returned in high dudgeon. Her hair 
was disheveled and her general appearance 
that of one who had engaged in a tussle. “The 
rascal insulted me,” she explained, in breath- 
less gasps; “he was an awful smart looking 
chap and all dressed up to kill, too.” 

“What did he do?” asked Marie, with an 
expression of horror in her innocent eyes. 

“What did he do?” repeated Grace. “Why, 
he tried to kiss me. He couldn’t talk Amer- 


358 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


ican worth a cent. He’s a foreigner, and I 
couldn’t understand a word he said. But he 
spoke my name, and I nodded and said ‘yes,’ 
and then he said something and was going to 
kiss me, and I drawed off and hit him right 
between the eyes. I tell you we had a time 
of it. He undertook to hold my hands so I 
couldn’t hit him any more, but he couldn’t do 
it. His grip was powerful, I tell you, so I 
wriggled away and threw the big music book 
at him, and he backed up against the music 
stool and fell over it, and he and the stool 
and the music was all in a heap together. 
Then I opened the door and told him to git, 
and he sneaked out glaring at me like a wolf.” 

“He may be one of your relatives from Ger- 
many,” suggested Marie. 

Grace was dumfounded. This supposition 
had not occurred to her. 

Although the exciting events of the morning 
had a depressing effect upon Grace, she nerved 
herself to attend her foster-father’s funeral in 
the afternoon. She went in the family car* 
riage, accompanied by Mr. Booth, who con- 
ducted the services, which she declared to 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


359 


Marie, were “heavenly. ” Marie was delighted 
with Grace’s praise of her beloved pastor. 

“I think he is an angel,” she continued; 
“and Sally Long thinks he is, too. He never 
said a word about old Long’s cussin’ and 
swearin’ and comforted Sally by telling her 
that he hoped she would meet him in heaven, 
and I believe she will.” 

“What makes you think so?” asked Marie 
interestedly. 

“Because old Long was kind to the cat that 
was kicked around and pestered by every boy 
in the alley, and I believe that would take him 
to heaven if nothing else would. Bill brung it 
home in his pocket when it was a kitten. He 
found it most starved to death, mewing on a 
tree box, and he gave it part of his broth 
every day, but when Bill ran away all the boys 
picked at it. They das’ent before that. Sally 
Long was mean to it, too. She tried to set 
Mordica on it, but Mordica just curled up at 
old Long’s feet, where he staid day and night, 
and wouldn’t budge.” 

“Who is Mordica?” said Marie. 

“The dog, of course! We call him Mord for 


360 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


short. Poor Mord! He set to the head of the 
coffin beside Sally, with his lop-ear loppiner 
than ever, and his tail curled under him. He 
had a black ribbon tied around his neck in a 
big bow. Sally wanted me to set with the 
mourners, and I should if I had been dressed 
in black, but how would I look there in blue 
and gold? After hearing that sermon I was 
glad I went to see ’em,” she added. 

“Were there many mourners?” inquired 
Marie. 

“Only Sally Long and Mord,” was the re- 
ply. “But Sally looked mighty scrumptious, 
for she had borried her mourning of a widder 
who is some quality, for her husband used to 
keep a sody stand, when he was living, and he 
died just in the nick of time for Sally to borry 
his widder’s mourning. But Sally didn’t seem 
to mourn so dredfully much, after all. Mord 
seemed to feel the worst, for he whined every 
little while. Sally was awfully set up about 
the funeral, and the corpse. When I got 
there but few had come, and she was standing 
by the coffin with her hands on her hips, and 
she turns to me and says, ‘He looks tip-top, 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


361 


don’t he?’ He was laid out with one of his 
eyes open, for Sally said he wouldn’t look 
natural with both eyes shut, ’cause he never 
slept that way. She wanted him to look as if 
he was watching for the boss at the mill. She 
said the only comfort in her affliction was that 
she could have a quality funeral.” 

“A poor comfort, surely,” said Marie, with 
a sigh. 

‘‘It’s enough for Sally Long,” said Grace. 

“I’m glad William rescued the poor kitten, 
and Mr. Long was good to it; but, Grace, you 
don’t think such acts win heaven for people, 
do you?” 

“I reckon they do; I’d rather depend on 
them than on joining the church.” 

“We should do both,” said Marie, “and we 
will, if we love God.” 

Grace made no answer, but turned her face 
to the window and looked out. 

I had been an interested listener, and was 
about to ask for further information, when 
Grace suddenly sprang to her feet. “Good 
gracious! If there ain’t the very man I fit this 


362 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


morning coming through the gate with Mr. 
Gale. What shall I do?” 

“Sit down and compose yourself,” I replied. 
“The man is a cousin of yours from Germany. 
His name is William von Heidleburg. Mr. 
Gale suspected as much, and looked him up 
while you were at the funeral, and learned the 
particulars of his call upon you. He has ac- 
cepted an invitation from mamma to dine, and 
you are expected to be present. ’ ’ 

“I can’t do it!” said Grace, shamefacedly. 
“I can’t face that man. I’ll eat with Marie, as 
I always do. ’ ’ 

“The position you will hereafter occupy in 
mamma’s household will make it imperative 
for you to take your meals with the family, ’ ’ 
was my decided answer. 

“I’d rather go back to Sally Long’s than to 
go through with all you want me to, for I 
know Bernie will make fun of me,” said 
Grace, with tears in her eyes. 

“Grace,” said Marie, gently, “you are the 
granddaughter of a German baron; you are 
heiress to a large fortune; your cousin told 
Mr. Gale all about it. We are very glad of 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


363 


your good luck, and no one will make fun of 
you. Your cousin will overlook what occurred 
between you after what Mr. Gale has told 
him. I advise you to go to dinner and act as 
if nothing had happened.’* 

“I wish I could,” said Grace, somewhat 
mollified, ‘‘but just think of the way I lit into 
that man, and he my cousin, too!” 

Marie smiled. “Don’t think anything about 
it; take off your bonnet and go with Sister 
Frank to dinner. ” 

Grace creditably passed through the trying 
ordeal of a formal introduction to her relative, 
and they became friends through mutual ex- 
planations, made by him in broken English, 
and by her in broken grammar. No allusion 
was made to the crimson scratch on the young 
man’s cheek, or to the bluish swelling between 
the eyes. But the color rose high in the mor- 
tified girl’s face at the sight of an accusing 
court plaster on the end of his forefinger, into 
which she remembered setting her teeth. 

Mr. von Heidleburg sat between Grace and 
Bernie ; the latter could talk with him in his 
native tongue, and he occasionally addressed 


364 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


her in German. I caught enough of what he 
said to know that he was paying her delicate, 
but not distasteful compliments. Mr. Booth 
was seated on the other side of Grace, and 
knowing the situation, devoted himself to 
making her feel at home in her new position. 
Miss Gay sat at Mr. Gale’s left, opposite the 
young people, and I heard her rallying the 
artist on his want of appetite and seeming ab- 
straction. He made no denial until she said, 
“Thee must be ill,” to which he replied, look - 0 
ing reproachfully at Bernie, “I’m not ill, but 
somehow I am not hungry.” 

Just then the plum pudding was brought to 
the table, in a lake of blazing brandy. Little 
blue flames licked the sides of the platter cov- 
ering the rich mass, and when served, burst 
forth from the morsels on every plate. 

“Couldn’t you eat a little of Dranmamma’s 
hell pudding,” said Gabriel with sweet solici- 
tude, having heard Mr. Gale’s admission. 

Mr. Gale stared at the child in amazement, 
but, innocent of having said anything unusual, 
he repeated his question. 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


365 


“What makes you call the pudding such a 
name as that?” asked Mr. Gale. 

“Cause it’s afire. My Sunday-school teach- 
er says everything is afire there. I like hell 
pudding; don’t you, Mr. Gale?” 

A silvery little laugh from Bernie caused 
Mr. Gale to pause in his answer, but as he saw 
her conscious blush under the adoring gaze of 
her new admirer, he said decidedly, “No, I 
don’t like that kind of pudding.” 


366 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER LIX. 

Bernie, elated by the favorable impression 
made upon Grace’s cousin, seizing the first 
opportunity, imparted her triumph to me. It 
was after he left for his hotel on Christmas 
evening, and I was in my room. “Mamma, 
is not Mr. von Heidleburg splendid? I really 
envy Grace. He said he wished I was his 
cousin. When I asked him how long he would 
remain, he said he would like to stay forever, 
and he looked unutterable things.’’ 

“What reply did you make, Bernie?’’ 

“I told him I wished so, too.’’ 

My eyes opened wide. “Oh, I knew you 
would be shocked, mamma, but that wasn’t a 
circumstance to the nice things we said to each 
other. We just kept it up until the last minute, 
and then he said, ‘good-bye for a night;’ so he 
intends to see me to-morrow. ’ ’ 

“Of course, he will come to see his cousin 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


367 


Grace, and you should give them an opportunity 
to become acquainted, Bernie.” 

“Why, Grace has fought him literally with 
tooth and nail, just because he offered her a 
cousinly caress. Do you suppose he craves fur- 
ther acquaintance?” 

“Whether he craves it or not, they must be 
encouraged to know each other better, and it 
would be kind of you to promote a better un- 
derstanding between them.” 

“Oh, certainly, I will do that; but, please 
don’t object to his bestowing a share of his 
gallantry upon me. I delight in it. If Old 
Sobersides would say half as many sweet things 
to me as Young Germany did, I would be per- 
fectly happy. He glares upon me like a wolf 
every time I speak to a man and I’m tired of 
it. It makes me contrary to see his eyes glint- 
ing at me when I'm having a good time. I 
just act worse than ever and say lots of things 
I wouldn’t say if he didn't act so.” 

“Why should you care, Bernie, how Mr. 
Gale acts, and why would you be perfectly 
happy if he said sweet things to you?” 

Bernie blushed. “Oh, I don’t know! There 


368 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


are things people can’t explain. Why should 
he care what I do? Explain that, if you can!” 

The silence maintained had a discouraging 
effect upon her. She tilted back in her chair 
and listlessly hummed a tune. Suddenly she 
straightened up. ‘‘Mamma, Mr. von Heidle- 
burg told me a strange story about a man who 
came over on the same ship. The man lives 
in this city and owns a chair hundreds of years 
old, and the First Owner of the chair, who 
died centuries ago, comes and sits in it awhile 
every night, and talks to him. What do you 
think of that?” 

‘‘1 think I would like to possess the chair, 
Bernie. ” 

‘‘I think the man is crazy, mamma. The 
next thing we hear he will be in an insane asy- 
lum. Mr. von Heidleburg didn’t seem to 
question his sanity. He is going to see the 
chair while here, and will tell me more about 
it, after he has visited the man who has it.” 

“When did he tell you this story?” 

“After dinner, when you were all talking on 
other subjects; if you had listened you might 
have heard it. It was very interesting. We 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


were in the corner by the piano, just before I 
played. He didn’t care about my playing; he 
said he would prefer I talk to him. I assure 
you, mamma, he was bound to make an im- 
pression on an American girl, and he succeed- 
ed. I’m almost in love with him.” 

“You are too impressible, Bernie. ” 

“O, no, mamma; it doesn’t hurt me to get 
almost in love with every nice young man I 
meet. What hurts is to lose my heart 
entirely.” 

‘‘That should be bliss,” I said. 

‘‘True, it should be, but it is not always,” 
replied Bernie in a plaintive tone. 

I scarcely noticed Bernie’s answer. I was 
considering the feasibility of securing an inter- 
view with Turner, who I inferred had re- 
turned. Bernie noticed my abstraction and 
arose to go. 

‘‘It is late, and I am keeping you up,” she 
said as she kissed me good-night. 

Pleasant experiences of the day had not ban- 
ished from my mind its all-pervading bitter- 
ness. At times the silence between my lost 
love and myself seemed unendurable. After 


370 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


Bernie left me, I was seized with a frenzied 
desire to speak to him. I had watched eagerly 
for Turner’s return, hoping, through him, to 
communicate with the First Owner, and thus 
be able to send a message to my husband, and 
possibly to hear from him in return. On the 
impulse of the moment I hastily put on bonnet 
and wrap and started out with a view of going 
to Turner’s. Drawing near I saw by the 
light in the uncurtained window that Turner 
was at home and sitting in front of the antique 
chair apparently in conversation with the First 
Owner. He gave me a hearty greeting, and it 
was not long before I was asking questions and 
receiving answers through my willing host. He 
could give me no information of my husband 
except that the last time he saw him he was 
“under instruction in great truths which he 
had neglected while in the flesh and which 
were necessary to his highest development. ’’ 

I was bitterly disappointed, and for a mo- 
ment experienced a touch of resentment that 
it should be deemed necessary to further en- 
lighten the Judge who I was aware thor- 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


371 


oughly understood the doctrines of the church 
in which he had been educated. But time was 
precious, as the midnight hour was drawing 
on when the First Owner would take his depar- 
ture, and, in desperation, I cried out, “Is there 
no way in which I can be put in communica- 
tion with the spirit of my husband this night?” 

Turner suddenly became strangely excited. 
“Judge Bennett is ’ere. The First ‘Honer’ 
says Judge Bennett is ’ere. ’E his by your 
side; ’is ’and his hon your shoulder.” 

The sudden announcement had a paralyzing 
effect upon me, and in a dazed way I glanced 
around for a view of the beloved object which, 
of course, was not to be seen. But the sensa- 
tion of a hand upon my shoulder which I had 
felt before, was distinctly experienced. This 
seemed to reassure me, and I believed the 
spirit of the Judge was present. I made an 
effort to control myself and say the things to 
him I had so often longed to say. But how 
could I do this through a common creature 
like Turner ! I was too proud to make an exhi- 
bition of my most sacred feelings in his pres- 

24 


372 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


ence. Could I only obtain possession of the 
chair once more and have direct communica- 
tion with the First Owner, it would be easier 
to speak through him to my husband. I 
turned suddenly to Turner. 

4 4 1 will pay you your own price for the chair 
if you will sell it to me. ’ ’ 

The Englishman shook his head. 

“Hit’s hall the comfort I ’ave,” said he, and 
added with a happy twinkle of the eye, “The 
First ‘Honer’ is ’elping me to ’eaven, ’ e be.’’ 

I was disheartened. It lacked but a moment 
of the hour when the First Owner would be 
called away, and I could fix upon nothing I 
was willing to say through the distasteful 
medium confronting me. Suddenly it oc- 
curred to me to make an appointment for the 
following night, when I would be better pre- 
pared for an interview which it was evident 
must, in the nature of the case, be somewhat 
formal between my husband and myself. This 
was accomplished, although I was informed 
that it was not certain the Judge could be 
present, as he was not yet master of his own 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


373 


actions. But, as “law governed” my earnest 
desire, would probably enable him to meet me. 

No sooner was this arrangement made than 1 
Turner informed me the First “Honer” had 
disappeared in the white flame. 


374 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER LX. 

Night was drawing on, when I was to 
have an interview with the departed spirit of 
my husband. The thought that Turner was 
to be the medium through whom I was to 
send and receive greetings filled me with dis- 
may. I felt it sacrilege to attempt to express 
our innermost feelings to each other, as had 
been our wont when he was in the flesh. 

" A love letter written on the rough bark of a 
tree is as dear to the lover as the perfumed 
billet-doux, but the voice of a soft spoken 
sympathizing friend can deliver a love mes- 
sage more acceptably than the coarse tongue 
of a boor. I had spent the day in planning a 
coup cCetat that would relieve me of Turner’s 
presence, and give me the ear of the First 
Owner. I determined to appeal to the Eng- 
lishman’s sympathies and to pledge him my 
word of honor that if he would sell me the 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


375 


chair at his own price, at midnight he should 
again be its possessor. 

I found him in a mellow mood owing, prob- 
ably, to the bottle which stood empty upon his 
table. Had undue advantage been taken of 
his condition, I might have become permanent 
owner of the chair. As it was, he willingly 
acceded to my proposition and generously left 
me alone with the chair, wishing me a “ ’appy 
’our with the First ‘Honer. ’ ” 

While he bent his steps toward the nearest 
saloon, I waited in tumultuous expectation. 
As I became calm, I reviewed the questions 
that I had jotted down in my note-book — sub- 
jects which I was anxious to discuss, not only 
with the Judge, but with the First Owner. 
The list may still be found on the yellow leaves 
of my note-book. 

Does the love of a disembodied spirit for a 
friend differ from that which he experienced 
when in the mortal body? 

If you could, would you return to the physi- 
cal body? 

Do spirits know the troubles and anxieties 
of their friends on earth? 


376 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


Have spirits knowledge of the future? 

Can anything be done by those in the flesh 
to increase the happiness of spirit friends? 

How do spirits attain the highest develop- 
ment? 

How can I live here so as to be on your 
plane when we meet in the spirit world? 

Would a full knowledge of spirit life benefit 
those in our world? 

Are we finding the truth in our search for it 
on earth? 

Have you 

I glanced toward the chair, and beheld its 
First Owner in possession. 

As of old, he saluted me in a quiet, fatherly 
tone. 

“I was detained,*’ he said, looking at the 
clock, “but we have still a few moments in 
which I am at your service. As the time is 
short,** he continued, “I will say, I know the 
object of your visit and all that has occurred 
in your life during all the years since our last 
interview. ’ ’ 

I made a hurried response in which I ex- 


THE WHITE FLAME, 


377 


pressed my gratification at again seeing him, 
and asked, “Is Judge Bennett here?” 

“No,” was the answer, “concentrate your 
mind on him and desire his presence if you 
would assist me in calling him. ’ ' 

I silently endeavored to comply with his re- 
quest. 

Only a moment elapsed when he said, 
“Judge Bennett is here, and desires me to say 
he was taken from you that he might sooner 
perfect that which was highest and holiest in 
himself, and that his sentiments toward you 
while in the body were as chaff to wheat com- 
pared with what they now are. He requests a 
message from you. 

“Ask him if he can read my thoughts, or 
must I speak them?” 

“Under certain conditions thought in the 
earthly body may be perfectly interpreted by 
those in the spirit body, but in this instance 
words would be more satisfactory.” 

I hesitated. What words could I use through 
another to assure the Judge of my undying 
affection? 

The First Owner observing my embarrass- 


378 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


ment, said kindly, “I know what is in your 
heart. Shall I tell the Judge?” 

“Tell him,” I said, drawing a breath of 
relief. 

“The Judge is satisfied, he awaits your com- 
mands.” 

“Commands,” I repeated, “tell him he 
must command me. What can I do that 
would be most pleasing to him?” 

“Whatever your inner consciousness tells 
you is right at all times and under all circum- 
stances,” was the prompt response. 

Suddenly poor Nathan’s case rose before me, 
and I was silent for a moment. The conflict 
in my mind was short, but decisive. Love 
triumphed. 

“I will try,” I murmured. 

The First Owner looked his approval. Then 
a remarkable thing happened. The heavy 
voice of the Judge, full of strange pathos, 
seemed to fill the room. 

“Frank, warn the young to steer clear of 
the rock on which my life was wrecked. Res- 
titution can not be made in a day.” 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


379 


I knew to what episode in his life he re- 
ferred, and I shuddered at the recollection of 
the retribution that overtook him. Above all, 
was I startled by the sound of his voice. This 
evidence of his presence overcame me. I 
trembled visibly. 

14 If I could but see you, I would be happy," 
I faltered. 

The First Owner hastened to comfort me. 

“You will see .him some time; you will learn 
the conditions. He is no longer here. He 
was permitted to come to deliver his message 
to you, and was immediately called away. He 
is devoted to your advancement along ’the 
lines which occupy him. ’ ’ 

“What are they?" I questioned. 

“The things important to his spiritual wel- 
fare which he neglected while on earth." 

I was silent. My eyes directly fell upon the 
list of questions I held in my hand. The First 
Owner’s glance followed mine. 

“Could you answer any of them?" I vent- 
ured to say. 

“I think I could did time permit, but not so 


380 , 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


that a mortal could fully understand. You 
must become spiritual and familiar with the 
law that governs the spirit to have a clear .ap- 
prehension of the things you desire to know. 

4 4 You may begin at once to learn that which 
is necessary for your soul’s good by inquiring 
of the spirit within. The kingdom of heaven 
is within you. Even in Turner, steeped in 
ignorance and inebriety as he is, the spirit 
divine is beginning to stir. It is to him I have 
been sent to minister.” 

Why not to me? Is Turner of more conse- 
quence? Were my unspoken thoughts. 

To my surprise an audible answer came 
from the occupant of the chair. 

4 4 Heaven has no favorites. I have done what 
I could for you. Your questions indicate the 
trend of your mind. The last in the list shows 
you to be a sincere seeker after truth. You 
will be rewarded. All who seek truth ulti- 
mately find it. Prove these things by the law 
of righteousness within. Truth is only found 
when the soul is in touch with Infinite Love. 
He who is ‘the way, the truth and the life,’ 
woos all souls.” 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


381 


The last words had scarcely passed his lips, 
when the dial’s hands closed on the midnight 
hour, the white flame flashed with dazzling 
brilliancy, and the First Owner was gone. 


382 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER LXI. 

Favoring circumstances enabled me to con- 
ceal from the family my nocturnal visits to 
Turner. 

Two days had elapsed since the arrival of 
Grace’s cousin. His calls upon her had been 
frequent, and he seldom failed to ask for Bernie. 
On one of these occasions she was out with 
mamma and myself, and on our return, Miss 
Gay called me aside and said “Grace’s cousin 
came especially to see Bernie, but as she was 
not in, he said, with her mamma’s permission, 
he would call upon her again this afternoon. 
I assumed the responsibility of assuring him 
he would be welcome. But, Mrs. Frank, there 
is no doubt in my mind about his intentions. 
I think he will ask Bernie’s hand in marriage. ’’ 
“It can’t be possible, Miss Gay. They are 
but strangers to each other. ’ ’ 

“He is fascinated with her, and is a man of 
impulse. Grace says he asked her if Mr. Gale 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


was Bernie’s lover, and when she told him ‘no,’ 
he said, ‘Thank God!’ She says he proposes 
to return to Germany by the next steamer and 
take her with him, and put her in school if she 
so desires. She has decided to go. Marie, 
poor child, will find it hard to give her up. She 
has failed surprisingly since I was last here. 
But she is ripe for heaven — Marie is ripe for 
heaven,” she repeated softly, as the door 
opened to admit visitors. 

Soon afterward when I informed Marie of 
Grace’s determination to accompany her cousin 
to Germany, she was quite overcome. Her lips 
quivered and she closed her eyes, as she lay 
still, unable to express her feelings. 

‘‘It is best for Grace to go, I know,” she 
said presently, with a pitiful quaver in her 
voice. ‘‘It is selfish to want to keep her.” 

Grace came into the room. ‘‘Grace, dear,” 
said Marie, ‘‘Sister Frank tells me you are 
going away from me. What message shall I 
take from you to William when I meet him?” 

Grace stared at her. ‘‘I don’t know what 
you mean. ” 


384 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


“When you have gone, I shall go to Wil- 
liam, and I want you to send him some word. ” 

“Do you mean you shall die?” questioned 
Grace, with an expression of horror on her 
countenance. 

“Don’t look so frightened,” said Marie, with 
a reassuring smile. “I think I shall go before 
very long. I saw William beckoning to me 
last night in my dreams. Shall I tell him you 
will always try to be good?” 

“If you die and go where William is, you 
may tell him that, for it won’t do no harm for 
me to try to be good. I never will be good un- 
less I try. But, I don’t want you to die when 
I’m gone,” she continued in a broken voice, 
“what will become of them poor folks you are 
helping?” 

“I shall ask mamma to give them all my 
flowers and my money and everything I have. 
I have already made a list of things that 
mamma is willing I should give away before I 
go, and Mr. Booth has promised to distribute 
them this week. The list is under my pillow, 
and when I put it there last night, my head- 
ache went away, and my rest was sweet.” 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


385 


“You see,” the generous girl explained, 
“thinking about the poor had given me the 
headache. ’ ’ 

“Getting the headache thinking about ’em 
aint nothing to being awful poor folks your- 
self, ” said Grace. “I am glad I aint got to live 
on the little end of nothing any more,” she 
continued, in a self-congratulatory tone. “And 
Sally Long won’t be likely to have quite so 
hard a row to hoe, now old Long is off her 
hands. I am going to ask my cousin to give 
her a lift before we go, even if she was hard 
on me.” 

“That is good of you, Grace. When people 
try it is not hard to be good. ” 

“It ain’t hard for good folk to be good, but 
it is awful hard for bad folk, I can tell you,” 
replied Grace with startling emphasis. 

Miss Gay quietly announced to Bernie, at the 
midday meal, the intention of Mr. von Heidle- 
burg to call upon her during the afternoon; 
Bernie giggled. Mr. Gale, for once, lost his 
presence of mind. He dropped his fork, stared 
blankly at the giddy girl, and scarcely spoke 
during the remainder of the meal. When it 


386 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


was over, he did not return directly to his 
studio, as was his habit, but lingered near the 
door until Bernie passed through. Following 
by her side, he said a few words in a low rapid 
tone. They entered the parlor together and I 
saw no more of Bernie until after she had 
received the expected visit from Grace’s de- 
monstrative cousin. She came to my room 
trembling with excitement. “Mamma,” said 
she “hold me! or I shall fly all to pieces. Oh, 
my, my, my! Mamma, would you believe it? 
I have two lovers — two genuine lovers! Oh, 
dear, what shall I do? I shall go crazy, I 
know!” 

“Bernie, sit down and calm yourself,” 
advised her mamma. 

“Oh, I can’t! I can not be calm. I’ve had 
such a time! First, Mr. Gale said — Oh, I don’t 
know what he said, but I do know what young 
Germany said. He was in a frenzy, because I 
wouldn’t promise to be his frau. I had to give 
him some hope or I believe he would have 
killed himself. Talk about the phlegmatic Ger- 
man ! Why, when a German gets in love, he 
is a boiling terror. He kept getting up and 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


387 


sitting down, and gesticulating, and he scat- 
tered the music, and his hands pressed his 
heart, and clutched his hair. I declare I was 
almost afraid of him when he came close and 
bent over me, and said with a sort of savage 
tenderness, ‘Flower of my heart! I can not 
live without you!' Mamma, I admire him. I 
like to see a man show feeling. Now, Mr. 
Gale is always holding himself in. He looks 
unutterable things and says nothing. It is so 
aggravating. Girls like straightforward love- 
making. He acted like a man just waking up 
to-day, and spoke out. I suspected what was 
coming when he asked me to go to the parlor. 
I made up my mind he shouldn’t think I had 
been waiting to fall into his arms, but I was a 
little confused after all, and he managed to 
make me partially commit myself; so did the 
delightful foreigner, who called later. I told 
them both I must consult you, and of course I 
didn’t carry my heart on my sleeve. I don’t 
know what to do. What shall I do, mamma?" 

“Are you sure you have not decided what 
you will do, Bernie?" 

“Oh, yes, that is — I think — I have not posi- 

25 


388 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


tively decided. It would be dreadful to leave 
you and dear little Gabriel to go to a foreign 
country to live, wouldn’t it?” 

“Do you think you could make such a sacri- 
fice for either of them, Bernie?” 

“I — I don’t know! I might. You see, 
mamma, Mr. Gale told me a week ago that it 
was his intention to go to Italy, in the further- 
ance of his art, as soon as he could gather 
courage to take leave of a very dear friend, 
provided she would not consent to accompany 
him. Of course after what he said to-day, I 
know he meant me. Old Sobersides is an 
enigma, anyway. He isn’t half as nice as 
Young Germany, and yet I keep thinking of 
him. I don't know what ails me.” 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


389 


CHAPTER LXII. 

Less than a week after his declaration, Ber- 
nie’s German lover, with crushed hopes, sailed 
homeward, accompanied by his cousin Grace. 

Within a month after their departure Marie 
lay like a white lily upon a pall of velvet, in 
the apartment from which William had been 
carried to his grave. Paralysis, which dead- 
ened all pain, and gently released her spirit, 
fell upon her about midnight, like soothing 
balm from an angel’s hand. 

“We thought her dying when she slept, 

And sleeping, when she died.” 

Sincere mourners for Marie outside of her 
family and friends were not wanting. News 
of her death brought a motley throng to the 
house, for her ministrations to the poor had 
covered a wide range. Roughshod feet of 
young and old trod the soft carpets. Many an 
eye dropped tears upon her bier. It was Mr. 
Booth who took the little grimy hands of the 


390 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


children in his own, and led them to view the 
lovely form of their benefactress, little dream- 
ing perhaps, that another would ere long lead 
those same children to look upon his lifeless 
clay. Apparently in perfect health, he offici- 
ated at Marie’s funeral. Having tenderly con- 
signed her precious remains to their last resting 
place, he returned home with our family. Sad 
and weary, mamma, accompanied by Miss Gay, 
whose cheery presence was greatly appreciated, 
retired to her room, at an early hour of the 
evening. 

Bernie and Mr. Gale slipped quietly away to 
a corner of the library. Mr. Booth and I found 
ourselves alone in the parlor with Gabriel, who 
curled up on the sofa and was soon fast asleep. 

The silence that fell between us after the 
solemn experiences of the day, was more elo- 
quent than words. He was first to speak. 

“Frank, the world seems slipping away from 
me, but I thank God you are still left.” 

I made a deprecatory motion with my hand. 

“Oh, don’t misunderstand me,” he hastened 
to say. “I am not speaking to you as a lover, 
but as a brother. I know of your promise ; 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


391 


Bernie told me. But there — over there neither 
marriage or giving in marriage will be known. 
We shall be as the angels of God. ” 

“It is a blessed thing to possess the faith you 
have, Mr. Booth, but I can not yet fully grasp 
it. I am doubtful about everything I 
was taught pertaining to the world of spirits. 
The experience I had with the First Owner of 
the antique chair unsettled me. Since he told 
me to pray for Nathan, I have only lately tried 
to say my prayers. I could not forgive as I 
would be forgiven. ’ ’ 

“Frank, if Nathan were to tell you he was 
sorry for his sin against you, could you not for- 
give him?” 

“Certainly I could.” 

“Why, then, can not you ask our Father to 
forgive you of wrong doing of which you 
repent, as you would forgive Nathan, under 
the same conditions?” 

“I can, and will, Mr. Booth. Dear Marie’s 
never-to-be-forgotten exhortations shall be 
heeded. She is no longer here to pray for me. 
I must pray for myself. I have also promised 


392 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


another to try, and I will ‘arise and go to my 
Father.’” 

Mr. Booth’s face glowed with an expression 
of joyful surprise. He grasped my hand. 
“Frank, communion with the Father of your 
spirit will lift you to heights where angels soar. 
You may never know how I have longed for 
this hour. I felt it must come.’’ 

A new and holy bond of sympathy seemed 
suddenly to have been established between us 
— between my early idol and myself. I felt 
like one just returned from a strange land, 
where I had met with losses which were 
being made up to me. The nurse came for 
Gabriel. It was his bedtime. He awoke but 
insisted on sleeping with Mr. Booth, as he fre- 
quently had done. Nurse was dismissed 
and the boy again fell asleep. We resumed 
our conversation, drifting away to the time 
when Mr. Booth first made his home with 
mamma, and I was a young schoolgirl. It 
was the first interview of the kind we had ever 
had and that night’s conference, knit our souls 
indissolubly together. The bond was of such a 
nature I felt sure of the approval of my de- 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


393 


parted love who had so lately expressed senti- 
ments in accord with those of my spiritual 
adviser. It was approaching midnight when 
we separated with a silent pressure of the hand. 

Bernie . and Mr. Gale still lingered in the 
library ; their low voices reached me as I went 
to my room. Scarcely had I closed my door 
and dropped upon my knees, when I heard 
Gabriel's voice, in cries of distress. I met the 
little fellow running toward me in his night- 
gown. He caught my dress and screamed, 
“Mamma, come quick. Mr. Booth has failed. “ 

I found Mr. Booth lying unconscious across 
his bed. He had not so much as removed his 
necktie, and his clerical coat was still buttoned 
close upon his chest, as he always wore it. 
Under the impression that he had fainted, I 
summoned Mr. Gale and Bernie. We tried 
every means in our power to bring him to con- 
sciousness. But in vain. His spirit had 
departed. 

Our trusted family physician was called. 
When he arrived, I took Gabriel, wild with 
grief, by the hand and led him to my room. 
He sat upon my knee, his head leaning against 


394 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


my breast, while I elicited from him informa- 
tion concerning Mr. Booth’s last moments. 

“He held me on his lap,” sobbed Gabriel, 
“and kissed and kissed me before he would let 
me undress. When I was ready, he opened 
the bed and told me to jump in, but before I 
could do it, he fell over on it, himself. He 
looked so white, and I was afraid he would die 
like Aunt Marie. Oh, dear! oh, dear! Will 
Mr. Booth be put deep in the ground too?’’ 

I drew my boy closer to my breast and kissed 
him passionately. “Oh, mamma, you don’t 
kiss me yet as hard as Mr. Booth did, and you 
don’t tell me you love me.’’ 

“Mamma loves you, Gabriel, better than any- 
one else in the world. She loves you when 
she doesn’t tell.’’ 

“I like to be told,’’ murmured the boy, now 
almost asleep. 

I sat with him in my arms not seeming to 
possess the power to move, until mamma 
came to my room. She said that Dr. Jones 
could not account for Mr. Booth’s sudden 
death, and had proposed an autopsy. After 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


395 


mamma followed Bernie and Miss Gay. The 
latter promptly took Gabriel from me and said : 

“Thee must rest. Thy pale face should lie 
upon thy pillow, and thy staring eyes be closed 
at once.” 

“I will say, as Marie used to, if I must, I 
must, ’ ’ and I made an attempt to rise but fell 
back in my chair, dizzy and trembling. 
Mamma went for Dr. Jones. 


396 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


CHAPTER LXIII. 

“Nervous prostration,” pronounced Dr. 
Jones, and I was kept in bed until Mr. Booth’s 
funeral had taken place, and the household 
was again settled. Mamma watched over me 
with great anxiety. It happened one day that 
the doctor came when I was supposed to be 
asleep; he and mamma conversed in low tones 
in the adjoining room. 

“Mr. Booth’s was a most remarkable case,” 
I heard the doctor say. “The autopsy dis- 
closed a singular condition of the heart. It 
was enlarged and I could plainly see traced 
upon its swollen surface, in bluish fibres, the 
exact outlines of the features of Frank’s face. ” 

“How he must have loved her!” said mam- 
ma. “It is as wonderful as the story of the 
stigma which St. Francis is said to have 
received. ’ ’ 

“It is unaccountable — unaccountable,” 
repeated the doctor. “The theory you advance 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


397 


as the cause of the phenomenon is opposed to 
reason and science. The outline of the features 
must have been merely a chance coincidence. 
It might be well not to mention the matter to 
Frank, at least, not just now,” suggested the 
wise medical adviser. 

“Of course, I would not.” 

Improvement in my health was rather dis- 
couraging and the doctor prescribed short mid- 
day drives. I visited Shady Alley to inquire 
into the welfare of Sally Long. She spied me 
from her window and throwing her apron over 
her head, came out to the carriage. 

“Howdy,” was her greeting. “You look 
awful sick, Miss Bennett.” 

“You are not looking in good health, your- 
self,” I replied. 

“O, I’ve been dredful sick, Miss Bennett.” 

“What has been the matter?” 

“I’ve hed — I’ve hed — I’ve hed — I declare 
I’ve been so sick I don’t know what I’ve hed. 
But Miss Plackett does,” she added in an 
encouraging tone. 

“Can I be of service to you?” I asked. 

Sally pressed closer to the carriage and 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


lowered her voice, not knowing that the coach- 
man was rather deaf. 

“Ef I hed a weddin’ dress,” said she, ‘‘I 
b’lieve I’d git married. I aint been a widder 
long, I know, and it seems like dancin’ on the 
old man’s grave, but circumstances is peculiar. 
A cattle feller by the name of Turner cum this 
mornin’ to git the ole man to work fer ’im. 
He hed been to Ingland an’ hedn’t heard the 
ole man was dead. He says he’s awful lone- 
some since his chum what used to cum and set 
in a square ole cheer, he’s got, don’t cum no 
more, an’ he wants me to marry him. He’s 
a waitin’ in thar now fer me to say yes er no. ” 

“Are his habits good?” I said, to put the 
poor woman on her guard. 

“Well, middlin’. He drinks periodic, but he 
sleeps it off and he makes lots of money buyin’ 
cattle. I know it’s risky to take him, but 
everything in this world is risky, I reckon.” 

“I have met Mr. Turner,” I said, “and I 
wish you would ask him to come out ; I want 
to speak to him a moment.” 

Turner was promptly called and, being ques- 
tioned, informed me that the First Owner of the 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


399 


antique chair had not appeared in it since the 
night of Mr. Booth’s death. 

“ ’E told me,” said Turner, “the last of 'is 
race was passing hover, hand ’e would be 
relieved from the bondage of the chair. ’E 
'ad no more than said it, when the white flame 
blazed up, and ’e was gone. And ’e ’as not 
come back.” 

“Well, I never heard such stuff as that,” 
said Sally Long. “I’m afeered of ghosts. ” 

Turner looked a little discouraged as he 
turned to go into the house. 

“I will not keep you any longer in the cold,” 
I said to Sally, “but if you should need it let 
me know, and I will send you the wedding 
dress. ’ ’ 

“You might send it and take the risk,” said 
Sally. 

As the carriage turned away, Sally called 
out, “There’s a sick ole Jew in that tumble 
down shanty across the alley what’s suffrin’ fer 
vittles. ” 

I thought of Marie, of Gabriel Booth, of the 
promise made to one in the spirit world, and 
decided to visit the Jew. I looked in and saw 


400 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


— an old man shivering, girded about with the 
ragged remnant of blanket. As he raised his 
hands toward heaven, and said, ‘‘God, poor 
and needy I stand,” his tall figure swayed, and 
he fell upon the pallet of straw, which lay 
upon the floor. Here indeed was extreme 
poverty. Midwinter and no fire, frost upon the 
windows and one ragged blanket covering the 
shivering form as it lay upon the hard bed. 

He raised his shaggy head and I recognized 
the pinched and wrinkled face, the hooked 
nose and piercing eyes of Nathan. We had 
never met since he so long ago sold me the 
fateful chair, yet he knew me at once. 

“Have you, too, come to upbraid me?” he 
asked in hollow tones. “I am consumed with 
remorse. The God of my fathers has forsaken 
me. I have lived by cheating. The chair was 
my ruin. I heeded not the warnings of its 
spirit owner. I loved money too well. Now 
I am left to starve ” 

I interrupted the poor wretch. “Let me 
speak ! You shall have food and be cared for. ’ * 

“Shall I be forgiven? Will you pray for 
me?” 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


401 


“You are forgiven; I do pray for you,” I 
responded. It was then and only then that 
peace profound began to reign in my soul. 

An expression of restfulness, such as is only 
seen in the faces of the dead and dying, over- 
spread his features. I knew that poverty and 
riches were now alike indifferent to him and 
stayed with him until his soul had taken its 
flight. With his last breath his lips moved and 
I bent my head to listen. Either he or a 
voice for him, said softly, “The flame of mercy 
always burns.” 

Next day I learned that Turner’s house had 
caught fire while he was at the Widow Long's, 
and, with the antique chair in it, was burned 
to ashes. 

Bernie’s marriage to Mr. Gale took place in 
the early autumn and the happy couple went 
abroad, visiting Germany during their tour. 
One of Bernie’s letters from Baden-Baden, 
contained the following: 

“Grace is here for an outing. She is now 
the affianced of her cousin, Young Germany, 
and handsome and haughty as can be. Miss 
Gay is also here. She says ‘Thee and thy 


402 


THE WHITE FLAME. 


mamma and little Gabriel must join us too. ’ 
We are all so happy. I know you will say 
when you read this, as you have so often said 
to me, ‘God is merciful/ ” 

As I sat idly holding the letter in my hand, 
and dreamily pondered the last clause, a vision 
of the First Owner in the antique chair rose 
before me and I seemed again to hear him say, 
“The white flame of mercy always burns. ” 
There is but one power, God power, and God 
is love, therefore the white flame of mercy 
always burns. 


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TOLSTOI, A 

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